All The Pretty Monsters
by RavensGame
Summary: "I have a message for you." The girl ran the knife almost lovingly down Dean's cheek. "From your brother." Her smile was cruel and beautiful. Her words were absolute. "Stop. Looking." In 1998, forty-three children disappeared, vanishing into the night. Among them was 15-year old Sam Winchester. Now seven of them have returned.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well kiddos, apparently I like writing really dark shit. This is obviously AU. I tried to make it substantial enough to stand on it's on as a one-shot, though I really like the idea. If there's interest, I will make it a chapter fic. I like having two different projects going on at once, to suit whatever mood I am in at the moment. So I wanted to see how receptive everyone was to a dark side/anti-hero Sam (and big Brother Dean who will either have to save him or kill him, right?)**

**So, reviews, follows or faves will be taken as interest. Enough interest=chapter fic. Otherwise, we will just have one seriously dark AU one shot.**

**As Always, **

_**EverReader**_

**Disclaimer: Definitely not my sandbox.**

"**All the Pretty Monsters"**

The tall man stared out at his army. 43 of them had been taken. But Hell was not called Hell without reason. Only six pairs of eyes tracked back.

He smirked darkly. It would be enough._ They_ would be enough. They were, after all, the culmination of hundreds of years of plotting and planning. Each one born of carefully arranged unions and merging bloodlines. Each one of the as sharp and bright as a diamond and darker than the blood of the Light Bringer himself. They had been forged into weapons, and their will, _his will_, was as sharp as edged steel.

The seven of them would remake this wretched world. The angels would beg and the demons would scream and the Boy King and his army of six would dance in the ashes.

No one could stop them.

Michael and his army would try, once they finally understood what they had helped to create, _to unleash_. The angels would find that their assumed victory was not so certain after all. The demons would find their own finely honed weapons turned back upon them.

He would see the cage of the Bright Star sealed forever.

The Boy King did not fear God, either. The God that would not bestir himself to save the lives, no, the _souls, _of 43 children ripped screaming from their families and cast into the pit simply for the crime of being born would not stir now.

The man smirked again. Perhaps God wanted to see the world burn as much as they did.

They would tear apart this world and remake the broken, bloody pieces into a shape of their choosing.

And the Boy King and his army would rain down hell on anyone who tried to stop them.

"Sam." The dark skinned man said the word lowly, as one might say a secret, or a prayer. They stood in a rough circle in the darkened alley, a warm breeze shifting the scent of sulfur. The man stared down at the cooling bodies strewn around them.

He grinned wider this time. His playmates had gotten a little messy. He forgave them. They'd only been topside a few moments before Azazel's henchman had been on them. They'd settle in when the time came.

"Drink what you need." He said, making eye contact with each of the six others. "Then we move. We expected this. The plan proceeds." The others nodded their assent, eyes never breaking contact with the leader.

"And the bodies?" Max asked impassively.

"Leave them. They'll send a nice message." The Boy King's grin grew, a savage light in his eyes.

Ava tilted her head and him, catlike, and blinked slowly. "All hail the King." She said sardonically, her smile as she sidled up to Sam somewhere between worship and sin and utter devotion.

Not one stood there against their will. He had saved no one who did not want it. They followed him by choice. Hell had stripped away their joy and their fear. It had burned away memories and morals and empathy.

Every other power in the universe had forsaken them, had turned away from the half-demon abominations. They had no religion left but that of the man standing in front of them. The one who gave them their names back when they had forgotten them. The one who had bled for them, had bled others for them. Their God was neither locked in a cage, nor hid away among the stars. They smiled amongst themselves as they murmured their assents.

"All hail the King."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Ohhh snap. Well I got a pretty good response considering the one day turnaround, so I will go ahead and get this out. Rated for torture, murder, drinking, and Bobby Singer cussing like a fool.

Love that man.

So, in short-**Dark** Sam. **Dark**, angsty depressed Dean. **Dark** story.

Thanks for reading. Reviews are love.

As always,

_EverReader_

Disclaimer: Sooo not mine. Nope. Not even a little.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

**Prologue:**

_The girl sat proudly, despite the fact that she was both tied and chained down. The chair was situated in the center of a large red devils trap, circled by another ring of salt._

_Her voice echoed of the iron walls of Bobby's panic room as she chuckled lowly._

"_Well, Dean-o, I have to say, I'm impressed you went to all this trouble. You don't seem the type to try so hard to get a girl's attention. The chains are a nice touch. Ancient Greek warding, right? That's of specialty of Bobby's, isn't it. That mean's were at Singer Salvage." _

_She shook her head slowly in sultry amusement. "So predictable. You know my siblings are already coming for me, right? Or is that the plan. Capture my family, and lock them up down here? Capture my king?" Her eyes flashed and she lunged forward, as far as the chains would allow, a sleek black panther on a too-tight leash._

"_It won't work. You can't stop us. You can't stop him. Seven years in hell, Dean. That's 840 years topside. What in the fuck do you think you could possibly do to us? To me?" She leaned back, looking for all the world like she was a queen giving an audience._

_Dean scowled. "I can gank you?" He offered idly. _

_She smiled. "No, you can't. You don't have the mojo to truly destroy me. I'm a living Arch Demon, Dean. Exorcisms won't work. You could kill my body, but my soul would just go back to hell. I'll just crawl right back out and grab a ride with the first pretty girl who catches my fancy. I've never been blond before. What's your little hunter friends name? Jo? Is that short for Josephine or-"_

_Dean cut her off, snarling "Azazel won't let you out of the pit again, sweetheart. You're no-fly with the king of hell."_

_She snarled right back again. "Sam is the only king I care about. And he'd come for me there, just as he's coming for me now." She smiled serenely this time. "Sam always comes for me."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean jerked awake violently, visions of broken library desks and bloody sneakers following him out of his nightmare. Slowly, too slowly for his liking, his heart rate calmed as he took in the monotonous walls of his hotel room.

_'Christ'_, he thought laying back on the bed and closing his eyes. Another freaking nightmare. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised.

Those memories, the sights and sounds and the _feel_ of those first few horrible moments on that long ago day would creep in at any inopportune time. Taking advantage of any weakness, and crack in his psyche, the memories would run rampart across his minds eye, or, in this case, his dreams.

With the stress of his father going awol, it was really no surprise they had crawled in tonight to keep him company.

He stood up and staggered over to the cheap dinette table in his even cheaper motel room, taking a swig of the bottle of Jack Daniels sitting there, still open from a few hours previous.

Deciding he wouldn't get any more sleep anytime soon, he sat down heavily, methodically opening up the half-dozen cell phones on the table and closing them again after he determined they did not hold the information he sought.

He wasn't interested in any calls or leads, be from Bobby or Caleb or Pastor Jim.

There was really only two people in the world he was interested in hearing from. One he hadn't seen in nearly a month.

The other he hadn't seen in nearly seven years.

He took another long pull from the bottle and settled in.

He had work to do.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam watched with eagle sharp eyes as his siblings spray painted the wards around the abandoned warehouse. Double checking every curve, every line, he was pleased to see that they were all correct, exactly as they had practiced.

Of course, they'd had several hundred years to practice.

The warehouse was only temporary, of course. He would make sure very soon that he and his siblings had appropriate, comfortable surroundings. They had spent lifetimes in filth and blood, and cold, dirty cells. He would see that they had what they needed, as he always had. They were his afterall. Hell had taken everything from Sam. Everything but them. He would tear the world apart and rebuild it into a safe place for his family, if that's what it took.

A part of him hoped it did, looked forward to the fighting, the blood and the violence and an outlet for the never ending anger that burned inside of him. He might very well tear the world apart, laughing all the while.

The derelict warehouse was discrete, however, on a dead end road in a dead end town, and what they needed to do would be noisy.

Very noisy.

Sam smiled. Soon the warehouse would feel just like home, but this time, he and his siblings held the power. This time, they would be the ones smiling, not screaming.

They would never be victims again.

He motioned with his head to Jake, who nodded and walked over to the first unconscious prisoner and dragged him into one of the newly finished devils traps.

The other two prisoners quickly found themselves at the receiving end of similar hospitality.

The first demon blearily blinked open his eyes, glaring unsteadily at Sam, who grinned. The ability to render a demon unconscious required a careful, delicate hand.

Sam had such a hand.

He punched the demon hard, once, in the jaw, rocking his vessels head back.

His other hand was...not so gentle.

"Azazel will hunt you down and -" The demon hissed.

"Yes, yes. Pain, torture, torment. I took the extended tour. Threats, my friend, are not what I need from you. You might notice the devil's trap you're sitting in, and the ring of salt. Or you might be entirely focused on the screaming pain in your arm. We branded you with a little mark I looked up once in Azazel's library. You're locked in, kiddo. Best to just...enjoy the ride."

"What do you want?" The demon asked, becoming alarmed as it realized the severity of it's situation. The other two demons, a woman and a man, were stirring now, eyes trained on Sam and the first demon.

"From you?" Sam asked, smiling wickedly, "Not a thing." Viper-quick, he swiped his blade across his throat. The exodus of sulfur and light left no doubt in the other prisoners minds that the rumors were true. Not only had the Seven escaped Azazel, but they had brought with them one of the ancient demon killing blades.

Sam walked smoothly up to the next prisoner as a grinning Anselm dragged away the first's body.

"I need information. Can you be so kind as to assist us?" Sam asked, in the same pleasant monotone he might use to order coffee. The woman shook her head affirmatively, eyes blackening to pitch.

Sam smiled. "I always had a thing for pretty blonde-haired girls." He walked away then, leaving Andy and Ava to question the demon. Once they had worked her over thoroughly, Sam would follow up, but he'd leave the leg work to them. Between Andy's voice and Ava's knives, they were a viciously effective team.

He went next to a mattress set up in the corner of the room. Her smiled softly down at Lily as she lay dreaming, Max sitting beside the mattress on the floor, leaning against the wall methodically going through a stack of newspapers.

"Anything of interest?" Sam asked, voice low as to not wake the dreaming girl between them. Max tilted his head to one side, a laconic one shouldered shrug and Sam nodded. He knew if Max came across anything of interest, he would make it known. He had long taken up the position of sentinel whenever Lily used her unique ability to astral project. Most humans were susceptible to her in that form, and she could read minds and influence actions quite easily, though only for short distances.

Soon enough she would return, having established identities and lines of credit for all seven of them with her unique gift. Sam and his siblings wouldn't think twice about simply taking whatever they needed, butt crime of that sort created waves, brought notice.

Sam had no intention of risking all their planning for something that could so easily be rectified using other means.

They hadn't been topside in nearly seven years, after all.

He would be a poor general indeed if he didn't scout out the lay of the land and gather supplies.

Jake came up beside him. "I've bled the first one out. Should be enough for the next few days, if we're frugal."

Sam frowned. "We'll be smart, Jake, not frugal. Smart. I won't see any of you hurting because you're withdrawing. We're using powers all the time. Make sure everyone understands to take as much as they need. If we run out, we'll simply find another one. They will no longer use this to hurt us, to control us. Also, make sure everyone remembers to eat human food and to drink water. Our bodies probably haven't adjusted enough from Hell to give us the proper signals. We have to watch out for each other until we're at one hundred percent." Sam made eye contact, made sure his lieutenant knew what was expected of him.

Jake nodded. "When Lily comes back, Anselm and I will go and fetch what she made for us. We'll bring back human food, also." He said, a slight look of distaste crossing his face.

Sam laughed, clapping him on the back. "I know, brother, it disgusts me also. But we have never shied from what needed to be done, have we?"

Jake nodded. "The fact that we are standing here is a testament to that."

"Yes." Sam looked off into the distance. "The testament of the Seven."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean stared at the various newspaper clipping splayed out across the table. No matter how many times he looked, he couldn't seem to see whatever it was that had made his father take flight. Lightning storms. Cattle deaths. Different cities, different newspapers. It all seemed so random, considering some of the clippings were nearly twenty years old.

Dean frowned. In fact some of the clippings were older than that. That one, an innocuous report on dry lightning in the Seattle area, was twenty-two years old.

The same age as Sam.

'_Son of a bitch_', Dean breathed out. His dad had done it. These clippings were pieces to a puzzle, and if Dean could just figure out what they said, he would see what John had seen.

A lead into the murder of their mother. And god willing, a link to finding Sammy.

Dean leaned back in his chair. He realized he was trembling, though from lack or food and rest or simply shock, he couldn't say.

He'd been down in New Orleans, working a voodoo gig when John went AWOL. Dean didn't normally take those kinds of jobs, despised witches and anything to do with them. Give him a wendigo or a werewolf any day of the week.

But the hoodoo priestess who'd asked for help had offered to read for him after he solved her little zombie problem. Rumor had it, she was one of the best in the business, a genuine article. No matter how many times John had urged him to give up the search for Sammy, Dean never could. He would quite searching the earth for his brother the day he stopped breathing. And then Dean would search wherever came after that.

The priestess had done as she promised, holding Dean's hands tightly as she rocked, pulling whatever information she could from the spirits.

The memory of the haunted look in her eyes when she had finally looked back at Dean still gave him shivers.

"I do not sense your brother among the dead, Dean Winchester. When I question the spirits, they only say that he is lost and found. And they say seven, over and over again, the number seven. I can tell you no more."

Dean had left then, both frightened and angry, proclaiming it a waste of his time.

But then his father had gone missing, and now the the Houdoun's words circled back through his mind.

"_Lost and Found and **Seven**, over and over again. **Always Seven**."_

'Where are you, kiddo?' He whispered brokenly. He fought the urge to open his wallet and take out the faded photo he kept there. They were seldom in one school long enough to get photos, so it was a fluke that he even had the one, too small photo of his baby brother. Dean didn't need to get it out to see it, though. Every nuance, every angle of Sam's face was seared into his minds eye. Every time he walked down the street, every time he met a young man the right age, the right height, the right hair, his heart stuttered half a beat.

One of the phones rang then, and Dean wearily answered it. "Winchester." He said, not even caring that it was his real name he was giving out.

"Took you long enough to answer, ya idjit!" The angry voice of Bobby Singer echoed across the room and Dean winced in response, massaging his temples with one hand.

Bobby continued without stopping. "Nice of you to call, or answer when I called, or stop by, or send a bleeding telegraph reading 'Still Not Dead'! **Damn it**, Dean, I've been worried sick. I know that your Daddy going missing is screwing around with you, but this ain't gonna get you nowhere." Bobby finally paused for breath.

"What do you want, Bobby." Dean said flatly.

"I'm gonna do you the worlds biggest favor. Get your ass to Fulton, Missouri. Three bodies have been found so far." Bobby said gruffly.

"Don't care." Dean replied immediately.

"You will. Your Daddy specifically asked me watch the strange activity around Jefferson City, Missouri, and Fulton's less than thirty miles from there." Bobby fell silent.

A long moment passed.

"Thanks, Bobby." Dean said, before snapping the phone closed.

Come hell or high water, he was getting his family back.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: **_**All right, so, quite a bit more action in this chapter. I don't have an actual Chapter estimate for this story yet, so let's go with LONG. The posting schedule for this story is Tuesdays, but if I finish a chapter earlier, I won't make y'all wait.**

**Also, I just posted an update to my other AU WIP, "Prisoner of War", which has a Sunday/Thursday update schedule, so if you haven't read it, please go check it out. It's Sammy-centric, with lot's of Dean love.**

**So, lets see. Trigger Warnings for this chapter: Violence. Torture. Blood. Cursing. Lots of Cursing.**

**If any of this bugs you, this is probably not the fic for you.**

**Also, I am a Missouri native, so that's one of the reasons I set this chapter in Missouri. In the season one finale, they rescue John from Jefferson City, MO. Ha Ha Tonka is a real Missouri State park with real ruins and a gorgeous spring. If your anywhere near it, you should check it out. That being said, my geography for this chapter is correct, but I completely bastardized the park's history to suit my purposes.**

**Reviews are love and candy and almost as precious as CC tickets. Since I spent the day writing this for you instead of camped out in a tent getting coffee from Misha, you should really consider reviewing. (partially kidding. Partially not.)**

**As Always,**

_**EverReader**_

**PS- oh my shit-crap-&(^$&*^*&)&((&*^%^#%^&)(***

**I just saw the trailer. I'm not sure if I can survive Dean not loving Sam. My world is a lie. Apparently I can handle Darkside Sam but not Darkside Dean. I can't even right now. I just...**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox.**

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"_Maybe this time he won't." Dean offered._

_She looked at him pityingly."You really don't get it, do you? We're Sam's and he's ours. We are all that's left. Everything else burned away in hell, Dean. Our families, our hopes, our faith. Everything that we were, burned. What's left is what Sam scooped out of the ashes."_

_She paused before continuing. "Sam is it. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in Lucifer. I don't believe in Gravity. There. is. Only. Sam." Her eyes flashed again. _

"_Sam always comes for us."_

_Dean's gazed sharpened at that, his eyes flicking up momentarily from the blade he was twirling in his hands._

"_And just how does that work, exactly." He queried._

_She groaned, rolling her head back and shrugging her shoulders. "Oh, God, is that what this is? An interrogation? Trust me, hero. This is so not your division." Her eyes locked on his. "I grew up in a place where the skies rained blood, Dean. And that was on the sunny days."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean drove the empty Missouri highway recklessly and far to fast for how curvy the road was. Fulton had been a bust. The three bodies were suspicious enough, that was for certain.

Drained of blood, with two bearing evidence of obvious and rather thorough torture. Only the faintest traces of sulfur were left at the dump site, however, and even though Dean had turned the small town upside down, he could find no other sign of demonic activity. Following up on Bobby's lead regarding his father's interest in Jefferson City, Mo, Dean had spent over a week in the riverside town next, to no avail.

Eventually he widened his search in one hundred mile increments. No lightning. No other phenomena that had been mentioned in any of the articles he had found in his father's hotel room.

And, of course, no John Winchester.

He had finally stumbled onto something, however. A suspicious string of disappearances along a stretch of highway inside a State Park near Camdenton, MO. The road led up to the ruins of what the area natives referred to as "The Castle", though, in reality, it was the burned ruins of a mansion destroyed over eighty years earlier.

The ruins themselves were stunning, set on top of a wooded cliff overlooking the Lake of the Ozarks and a unique, cold water spring thats water ran turquoise from deep within the cliff. In the past eighty years, seventeen young men had disappeared when leaving the park grounds, always alone, always after twilight.

As much as Dean would like to believe it had something to do with Dad or Sam, he was pretty sure it was some sort of ghostly activity. He'd considered ignoring it, as he had any other non-demon related leads in the past few weeks. Finally, however, he'd decided to go ahead and take the case. He was out of leads and ideas, and was slowly but steadily losing his mind. Perhaps a case he could solve was exactly what he needed to clear his head for his real purpose.

Leaving the park without issue, he headed back into town to hit the local library before it closed. The brochures at the tourist's information center had given only the barest details about the fire that destroyed the mansion.

Reaching his destination, he quickly charmed the bored looking librarian, who was more than happy to pull out the old boxes for him. Even better, she quickly gave him the local version of events.

"The owner, Marshall Branigan, built his dream mansion in the 1920's." The pretty, thirty-ish something woman confided as she flirted with Dean with her eyes.

"His first wife had died of consumption years before and he was getting on in age. His two sons from his first marriage were fully grown by then, one living in New York and the other, St. Louis. Maybe he was lonely, who knows, but, out of the blue, he took a second wife, Constance. She was beautiful, and young, only eighteen or so when they married. Six years later, though, Marshall apparently..."

She flushed prettily, and shifted her eyes suggestively to Dean. "Grew bored with her, and took up with one of the maids. When Constance found out, well, no one really knows for sure what happened, but somehow their two young children died, drowned in the fountain overlooking the cliff side. Constance then threw herself off the edge, down into the spring. A cook saw her jump, but authorities never recovered her body, whether it washed out into the lake or was carried off by animals, we don't know. When Marshall came home and found the bodies of his two young children, he had a heart attack and died from the injury a few weeks later. Neither of his grown sons wanted anything to do with the place after that, so they sold it. A man bought it, and tried turning it into some grand hotel, but then the mansion burned down three years later, and he was never seen again, either."

Dean thanked her and went back to the car, his mind racing. It sounded like a 'woman in white' to him. Scorned woman, murdered children, then suicide by water. But if they never recovered the body, there was nothing to salt and burn, which presented a huge problem for Dean.

Deciding he was too sober for this particular problem, he headed to the nearest bar he could locate. He lucked out, and it was a dive, seedy and full of hard drinking locals instead of drunken college kids and tourists.

He placed his order, and she left the bottle as he requested. He made sure to tip her in advance, if he had his way, he might not remember to later. Settling into a darkened corner booth, he began his nightly ritual of attempting to drown his own, personal demons.

Unfortunately, as the saying went, his knew how to swim.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam looked up from the ancient text as Jake entered the room.

"Any luck?" Sam questioned, as Jake settled heavily into the chair in front of his desk.

Jake shook his head. "The original meeting place for the Men of Letters is gone. Replaced by a comic shop, of all things. I don't know if Abbadon ever found what she was looking for there, but according to the records, she made a pretty mess. Over half a dozen bodies, most of them in pieces." He frowned, disappointed in his own failure to locate the information Sam had sent him to find.

Sam studied his lieutenant. Jake's skin was slightly ashy, and sweat beaded his brow. He needed to feed, that much was obvious.

Jake and Anselm had been having the hardest time adjusting to life topside.

For Anselm, it was emotional. He'd excelled at the violence and chaos of hell, the sheer physicality of it. Down below, he'd quickly become Sam's go-to assassin. While he'd lacked Ava's finesse with a blade, and Andy's keen ability to quickly assess weakness in his opponent, he'd made up for it with the almost animal-like instincts of a true hunter, a bird of prey.

Now topside, he was finding it difficult to reign in the very traits that had so often kept himself and his family alive while in Hell. Sam made it a point to allow Anselm to hunt down the majority of the demons they fed from. Providing for the family appealed to his instincts, as well as his urge to seek the kill.

Jake, on the other hand, was having much more mundane problems. He had long ago become used to using his super-strength continuously, but topside, that required a fairly steady stream of "the dark red" as they had taken to calling demon blood years ago. Unfortunately, being a living demon topside was tricky business, and their bodies now required a careful balance of food, water and sleep, as well as blood.

Dark red and cheeseburgers didn't always mix well, though and Jake was having difficulty transitioning to regular food.

It could have been worse, Sam supposed. He'd known there would be some trouble. Azazel had never intended for them to return topside, excepting Sam, of course, who would have been possessed by Lucifer almost immediately if Azazel had had his way.

That they'd transitioned as well as they had was a minor miracle, perhaps the only one in their entire goddamned lives.

Turning his mind back to his lieutenant, he asked "And the meeting place itself? Any artifacts or other useful things?"

Jake shook his head. "Nothing left of it's original purpose. No hidden rooms, the basement was empty."

Sam frowned also. "It was definitely the right place?" He asked sharply.

Jake nodded affirmative. "The sigil of the Men of Letters was sealed to the door. It was faded almost to nothing, but I recognized it from the book we studied before we left. It was definitely the right place."

Sam nodded, tenting his fingers as he thought to himself for a moment, digesting the information being presented to him. Jake simply watched as Sam's inner chess master reconfigured plans, facts and ideas with lightening speed. Sam was so smart it amazed Jake, amazed him how fast he could take a fact and wring every useful bit of information on, turn it quicker than a knife against an opponent. Sam's mind never quieted, always thinking, always planning. The consummate general, he had plans backed by contingency plan back by yet another contingency plan.

Sam wielded his intellect like the weapon it was, and Jake would pity their enemies, if he had remained the ability, that is.

Finally, Sam asked "And Henry Winchester?"

"Gone." Jake said carefully, unsure of his footing with this delicate line of questioning. Sam was his King and his Savior, but he was all that because he could be dangerous, ruthless and absolutely deadly. Sam seldom showed that side to his family, but neither did he tolerate failure. It was dangerous to them all, as was disobedience. Jake had once watched as Sam spent three days skinning a man alive.

Slowly.

Even Sam had bad days.

"Authorities reported him missing years ago, just as you remembered. The building had a strange feel to it, though." Jake added.

Sam looked up. "Demonic? Magic?" He questioned sharply.

Jake frowned. "Not average witchcraft, that's for sure. Not like the stench that had followed that bitch Ruby. This felt...different. Sharper, like it left ozone behind."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Soul magic." He murmured, mostly to himself.

That was very interesting, though it didn't help them now. They needed the key and the coordinates to the men of letter's bunker.

"So either Abbadon or Henry Winchester have what we seek." Sam said finally.

"But we can't find either." Jake supplied lowly, wincing again at the sting of his failure.

Sam stood, stretching as he walked easily over to the decanter on the counter. Pouring a glass for each of them, he handed one to Jake before sitting back down.

They sat in silence for a moment as Jake waited for his new orders.

Finally Sam said "We always knew finding the Men of Letters would be difficult. It's only the information that we need. We know the original procedure was created by a Catholic Priest. Andy and Lily will continue to work that angle. We'll revisit the Men of Letter's if we come across new leads."

Jake nodded his understanding. "And the rest of us?" he asked.

"Anselm will continue what he's doing for now. We're going through blood quickly still, and I don't expect that to change anytime soon, especially with Lily pushing herself so far." Jake nodded his understanding.

Sam continued. "He's taking extra time in disposing the of the bodies. We didn't care in Fulton, since we'd already chosen our new base." Sam glanced around the spacious loft apartment they had 'requisitioned' using Andy and Aselm's particular skill set. It had more than enough space, and since only a few apartments had been finished by the contractor, they were the only tenants. It was comfortable enough for the time being. The city only had around fifty-thousand people, though, so Sam made sure his siblings knew to cover their tracks and hide any kills well.

"He'll have to start going farther and farther afield to capture them, or the dead zone around our base will begin to become apparent." Sam added, lost in thought. They might have to move soon regardless.

"What about me and Ava?" Jake inquired.

Sam gazed out the window. "Ava's gone to...check on my brother. Max is backing her up. Dean got too close to us, in Fulton. If Lily hadn't been riding that cop, he might have stumbled upon us before we wanted him to."

"Where is he now?" Jake said, studying his king intently. He'd wondered, now that they were topside, if Sam would start to experience any of his old emotions towards his brother. Jake remembered very little of his life before hell, though he dimly recalled having a younger sister. He knew, Sam, however, remembered everything with an almost crystal clarity that had infuriated Azazel at times.

"About an hour away. I've sent her to keep an eye on things. It's possible one of our enemies may come after him to use as bait for me. Our plan doesn't allow for that. She won't intervene unless it's necessary, but if she does, I've given her a message to give him for me."

Jake could discern nothing alarming about Sam's behavior. Dean was a necessary part of Sam's plan.

Even if he hadn't understood Sam's reasoning, Jake and the others would have respected Sam's decisions regarding the older Winchester brother. Not only was Sam a vicious and deadly opponent, he was the one who had protected them for all those years in hell. They would honor his wishes no matter their own personal thoughts on the matter. Sam was the king.

"What do you want from me?" Jake stated.

"I need you to head out to Colorado. Azazel's notes said that a family by the last name of Elkins was believed to last have possession of the Colt." Sam said, turning the crystal glass round and round in his hands as he studied the play of light on the cut glass. The demon's blood inside gleamed darkly.

"Colorado's a big place." Jake frowned, mind racing at the scope of the project. Unconsciously, he tilted back his own glass, draining it in only a second.

Sam nodded. "I don't expect you to find the colt, necessarily, but I want you to sniff around. Find whatever intel you can. At some point, the Elkins family had contact with Samuel Colt. They may still have it, or know where it is. Locate the right set of Elkins, and then contact us. We'll move on it together when the time is right. We can't allow Azazel to gain control of the gate. If he frees Lilith, we may not be able to stop them from opening the cage. That cannot be allowed." Sam's voice hardened, darkened, and Jake felt the instinctive need to kneel that he felt whenever his king used that tone. Sam didn't like it when they kneeled, however, so Jake refrained.

His king wanted his army beside him. So that is where Jake would stand.

"And any demons we encounter?" Jake asked, already sure of the answer, but needing to hear it nonetheless.

Sam's smile was pitiless. "End them. As brutally as you can. It's time we started weeding out Azazel's henchman."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Dean's senses went on red alert the moment the two men entered the bar. One minute he'd been flirting with the scantily dressed waitress, and the next, gooseflesh had broken out up and down his arms. It may have been only his imagination, but Dean swore he could smell sulfur.

As inconspicuously as he could, he slunk lower in his booth. The men didn't act suspicious, starting a game of pool and ordering a few beers.

Dean wasn't fooled, however. Years spent trying to track down information on his mother and brother had left Dean with knife-sharp instincts which he knew better to ignore.

It was entirely possible that these were just two ordinary guys out for a night at the bar.

It was also possible his brother had run away and joined the damn circus.

But neither were very bloody likely.

As casually as he could, he threw some money down on the table and made his way to the door. He could feel eyes following him, so he made it a point to appear drunker than he really was. Two against one weren't the greatest odds, especially against demons, but if he caught them off guard, he might have a chance. Once outside the outer door of the bar, he quickly bolted around the corner. Drawing his knife, he took up a fighting stance.

Only seconds later the first man turned the corner, to fast to stop when he caught sight of Dean. With only a few well placed cuts, Dean had the demon down. It was only momentarily, of course, but hopefully all he needed were a few more minutes.

The next demon wasn't caught unaware, the way the first had been. Luckily for Dean, however, he didn't seem to be too powerful, or much of a fighter either.

He'd just started to believe he'd make it out when he heard a noise behind him. Ducking at the last second as a pipe swung by his head, he gaped at the third assailant.

"You call that a tip?" The blond asked, and Dean cursed.

It was always the damned waitress.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava watched the hunter fight from the shadows. Her orders were clear, and Sam wouldn't appreciate being disobeyed, particularly on this matter. She was bored, however, and hoped she would get a chance to play a little.

The appearance of the third demon provided her with the opportunity she had been waiting for. Winchester was now surrounded, clearly outnumbered.

Stepping out of the shadows, she sauntered over, heels clicking in the suddenly quiet alley. The other four, startled, turned to watch her approach.

"Bravo..." She clapped desultorily. "The waitress. What a surprise." She smiled. "I never would have suspected the waitress." She added sarcastically. Twitching her fingers just a little, she started summoning her Archeri.

"Who the hell are you?" The woman spat, clearly the ring leader.

Ava rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "Duck, duck, goose." She said, ignoring the amateurs demands and insults.

"What the fuck?" One of the men said, his meat suit battered and still bloody from the earlier tussle with Winchester.

"I said..."She pointed first to the bloody man, "Duck." She swung to his partner. "Duck." She turned to the woman last. "Goose."

She snapped her fingers and the Archeri attacked, ripping the spines from the unsuspecting demons. With a furious hiss, the three demons departed in a roiling cloud of black smoke. She didn't stop to watch, though. She didn't have much time before they would return in new bodies.

She looked up at the hunter, who had again taken up a fighting stance, bloody knife raised threateningly. Pulling out her own blade, she waggled it at him playfully.

"Oh look. I have one too." With a wave of her hand, she commanded her Archeri to hold Dean in place against the wall. He struggled, but tired out from the previous fight, and half-drunk to begin with, he was less than a match for the two faster-than-sight entities.

He watched her with furious eyes as she strolled up to him, eying him up and down.

"Well, well, well. The infamous Dean Winchester. We finally meet." She leaned towards him and gave him an experimental sniff, reminiscent of a tiger scenting it's prey.

"Who the hell are you?" He snarled, fearless despite being unable to free himself.

She tilted her head at him. "Well, you got the local right, at least." She paced back and forth in front of him, and Dean clamped his lips shut, determined not to give her the satisfaction of his questions.

Finally, she said, "My name's Ava. You know, I thought you'd be taller."

Taken aback, he snarked, "Well, sorry to disappoint you, princess."

She smiled at his comment. "Those eyes, though. So green. A girl would kill for eyes like that. Kinda wasted on a hunter."

"Quit playing around, lady. Kill me or quite wasting my time." Dean bit out acerbically, tired of being toyed with.

Faster than he could blink, she had closed in on him, scant inches from his face, breathing in his air. She was so close, Dean could see each individual eyelash, could smell the faintest trace of sulfur.

She smiled, and for just a moment, her eyes flickered black before returning to their original dark brown.

"Don't tempt me, cupcake. I'm almost out of time, so listen closely." She leaned forward, running the blade of her knife almost lovingly down the side of Dean's face. No blood was drawn, the action almost a caress, rather than an attempt to cut. She leaned closer still, breathing the words into Dean's ear, like a secret between lovers.

"I have a message for you." Her eyes danced with mirth and murder. "From your brother." She took a step back, enjoying the carousel of emotions running across Dean's face.

Dean stared back at her, stunned. "Sam's alive? Is he okay? Where is he? What have you done with him? Bitch, if you've hurt him, I swear to god-" His tirade was broken off by her peals of laughter.

"Oh, Dean Winchester, you are just too cute. Me? Hurt Sam? If you only knew, Winchester. If you only knew. I look forward to seeing you again, Dean. Bye, now!" With a waggle of her fingers, she sauntered off toward the end of the alley.

"Come back here you bitch, I'll end you! I swear-wait! Wait, damn it! What the hell was the fucking message?" Dean yelled, not caring how loud he got, or who came to see. This was the first lead he'd had in nearly seven years, and damned if he was letting her just walk away. He didn't care how many of her demonic minions had him pinned to a wall.

He'd plow through all of them.

She paused, still facing away from him. She smiled to herself. He was just like Sam had described. Everything was going perfectly. Hook, line and sinker.

"One righteous man, to go..." She whispered to herself, before slowing pivoting to face him once more.

"Stop. Looking." She enunciated the words, careful and bell clear and as sharp as the knives they both still held.

Dean reared back in shock, eyes widening, nostrils flaring, before he threw himself with renewed forced against the restraining arms of her Archeri.

"Oh, and just for kicks, I'll give you a little hint. Take her home." She smiled a lopsided grin, eyes dark and satiric.

"What the hell are you saying now, bitch?" Dean snarled, still struggling against her underlings.

She rolled her eyes, bored with the conversation and ready to go find Max and the three demons in their new bodies. They'd drag them into the devil's trap they had laid in a nearby farmhouse, and use the exorcism Sam had taught them years ago.

It didn't just send them back to hell, oh no. It _killed_ demons, shredding their very essence into so much sulfur and dust. Most humans weren't powerful enough to pull it off, but she and Max were just human enough. Eventually, Sam would acquire them all some angel blades, capable of killing angel or demon alike. The angels remained in hiding for now, though, and the tattoos they all bore warded against both demons and angels. Tonight, the exorcism would have to do.

Ava was hungry. She'd used a lot of power tonight, and she'd need more of the dark red sooner rather than later.

Returning to the conversation at hand, she studied the hunter one more time. She hoped the man would measure up to Sam's high standards. Their plans hinged on it.

"Constance." She clarified, annoyed by the delay. "You don't need a body. Just take her home and let her bad parenting do the rest."

With a snap of her fingers, she disappeared, releasing Dean as the Archeri disappeared along with her.

Dean fell to his knees among the bodies and bloody garbage on the ground of the alley. He stared at the space the girl had occupied only a moment before, breathing heavily.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins, and his hands shook. Unknowing tears streamed down his face, and he wiped them away without even noticing, leaving behind a streak of blood. Three words kept echoing through his head.

Sam was alive.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Okay, so I'm kinda freaking out. This story has a lot of alerts, but hardly any reviews. I'm starting to worry it's one of those things that so bad that it's like people watching a train wreck or something. Can I please get some feedback?**

**Pretty Pretty Please?**

**Do we like evil Sam? Evil/playful Ava? This story actually has some really cool (aka evil dark clever DARK) twists coming up, but it's really intimidating to write without feed back.**

**Help a sister out? lol.**

**Anyway, here goes.**

**Trigger Warnings- umm, the whole darn story.**

**Disclaimer: Sooo not mine.**

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"_You called yourself an Arch Demon". He demanded, ignoring her banter. _

_She rolled her eyes again. "A living Arch Demon." She corrected. "Better take notes, Winchester, this shit matters." She watched him in amusement._

"_What's the difference?" Dean asked snarkily. She shrugged inside her bonds. "I wasn't just created." She smirked. "I was born. We all were."_

_Dean's face darkened. "You wanna repeat that?" He asked dangerously._

_She raised a brow. "Do I need to explain the birds and the bees to you, Dean?" She asked with saccharine sweetness._

"_Cut the shit, Ava. You weren't born a demon. Sam wasn't born a demon." Dean yelled, slamming the blade of the knife into the armrest of the chair scant centimeters from her hand. She watched disinterestedly._

"_Are you finished?" She asked in a bored voice._

"_Not even." He pulled the knife out and went back to leaning against the wall._

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean stared down into the rapidly dissipating pool of water at the bottom of the old fountain. Within a few moments the water would be gone, just as Constance and her two vengeful children now were.

Three days.

It had taken Dean three days to figure out what the bitch meant when she said "Take her home and let her bad parenting do the rest."

Three days that he could have spent looking for his dad.

Three days that he could have spent looking for _Sam_.

He'd almost walked away from this hunt, almost said screw it, screw the ghost and the whole god-damned world because Dean had a little brother to find.

But another man had just gone missing, and Dean didn't have it in him to walk away at that point. It had taken him a good day, however, just to get his head back to a place where he could even approach the problems presented by his current hunt.

He'd been beyond shell-shocked when he'd gotten back to the hotel that night. When dawn had finally broken, he had found himself in the same bloody clothes, staring sightlessly at the newspaper clippings spread across his table.

It was too much. For seven years Dean had been hoping and praying and searching for Sam.

For any clue, any lead, any _semblance_ of a lead. He hadn't left any stone unturned. Long after John had appeared to give up, Dean had persisted in his hunt.

Though now, looking at the articles John had gathered, Dean surmised that his father must have only pretended to give up the search, perhaps to encourage Dean to do the same.

But Dean wasn't giving up. Was NEVER going to give up on Sammy. Sam was Dean's little brother. He'd taught the kid to talk and walk and read and write. He'd taught him to tie his shoes and shoot a gun. He'd fed him and tucked him in and walked him to school.

Dean would accept no other alternative but to find his brother. Dead or Alive. As far as Dean was concerned, there was not other alternative.

As the years had passed, dead had become more and more likely.

The scene of Sam's abduction had been gruesome. Sam had gone to the library after school, multitasking, working on an English assignment from school at the same time as an old Latin translation for their father.

Dean had become concerned when eight o'clock had come around and Sam hadn't made it back yet, so he'd jumped in the Impala and headed over to get him.

Three blocks was the closest he had managed to get the car, however, as police barricades and uniformed officers had barred the way. Dean had forced through on foot, frantic when he saw the shattered front door to the library.

He learned later on he had broken one officer's nose and knocked another's tooth loose, but he hadn't cared (still didn't, to be honest). He made it inside the library, but the carnage inside had brought him to a sudden, screaming halt. Blood and broken tables, ripped books and bodies. Every patron inside the library had been torn to pieces. The coroner had been able to account for every patron. Every patron but Sam.

Dean had located the table Sam had used, with his brother's smashed phone and back pack beside it. A half filled sheet of notes lay on the ground, the words obliterated with blood, next to a broken pencil.

Sam had fought, fought hard, that much was obvious. His knife lay on the ground, broken halfway to the hilt and dark with blood that had never been human.

But all that was left of Dean's little brother was that back pack and a half a sheet of notes.

And one bloody tennis shoe.

So hearing Ava say the words "your brother", well, that was more than enough to short circuit Dean's brain.

It was all too much, too sudden, too fast. Like everything in Dean's life had been moving faster than the speed of light and he'd never even realized until suddenly everything came to a jarring, crashing halt.

Sam was alive.

It was too much, and yet far, far too little.

As he stood, staring into the once-again bone dry fountain, he thought about the other thing Ava had said. Her so-called message from his brother.

"Stop looking." He realized he'd said the words out loud in the stillness of the night.

Why didn't Sam want to be found? Why wasn't he as desperate to see Dean as Dean was to see Sam. Was he hurt? Was he in danger? Obviously he was hiding.

But why was he hiding from Dean?

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam studied the demon before him. They'd caught it distressingly close to their quarters, and now he was irritated. They would have now choice but to move.

He gripped the demon's chin, forcing it's eyes to his. Waggling his blade in front of his captive, he said casually "Can I skip the whole speech, or are you a traditionalist?"

Not that either answer was particularly likely to be in the demon's favor at this point. Sam had come across some interesting sigils in his reading this morning.

The results should be...enlightening.

"What..." The demon swallowed nervously, and Sam felt his lips curl in disgust. It would be one thing if he'd suspected the demon was faking it's fear to further it's own endgame, but Sam was a master of deception.

This demon was fucked, and it knew it. It sweated out it's fear and desperation, and Sam wasted a moment wishing for a bit of a challenge.

"What do you want to know?" The demon finally managed, and this time Sam didn't bother hiding the eye roll.

"I'll tell you what..." He offered, circling around his captive like a shark scenting blood.

"You tell me interesting things, and I won't get...bored. You tell me a bunch of shit I already know, and I'll have to entertain myself in other ways. Do we have a deal-what is your name by the way?" Sam asked inquisitively.

"Jo-Joseph" The demon stammered. Sam rolled his eyes again at the weak excuse for a demon in front of him. Azazel needed better help.

"Well, Joseph, let's play a game, shall we? I don't have to be anywhere for a few hours yet. Tell me about Lilith's entourage. I want names..."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean flung his arms outward, driving the papers that had been rapidly piling up around him flying to the ground. Still furious, he surged up, kicking the table and then throwing the now empty bottle of jack across the room for good measure.

Nothing.

He had nothing. No new information, no new ideas.

Nothing but a demon girl who waltzed out of the night, telling him to back the fuck off.

Like hell.

He turned his restless thoughts from his brother back to the girl. She had appeared to be about the same age as Sam. There was something familiar about her, something nagging at the back of his mind.

She had said her name was Ava.

Dean _knew_ that name. It wasn't a particularly common name, yet Dean knew it all the same.

Why?

With a sinking feeling, and shaking hands, he ripped into his duffel, dragging out his other book of case notes. Flipping through frantically, he came to the section containing news articles on all the other stolen children.

There.

Ava Thomblinson. A pretty, petite brunette with a smile that had probably lit up the room. Fifteen years old when unknown intruders had broken into her family's home, killing her parents and two younger brothers in what police had described as a particularly brutal, bloody massacre.

She was assumed dead.

But Dean now knew it was much, much worse. He dropped the notebook and lunged for the bathroom, barely making it to the stool in time.

The girl in the alley had called herself Ava.

Dean thought back to his encounter with the girl, with her pitch black eyes and perfume like sulfur.

Ava Thomblinson was now a demon.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

The demon who had once been Ava Thomblinson stood in the shadows of the ruined castle, watching her king.

Sam stood at the farthest edge of the lookout, a dark silhouette against the brilliance of the star scattered sky. They shared of love of high places and empty spaces, a relic of hell and lifetimes shoved in cells.

She approached him wordlessly. She had no need to announce herself, like her, he had been watching the entire time his brother had battled the spirit.

"He's not what I'd thought he'd be." She stated petulantly, sounding young and rather unlike herself, having dropped her devil may care attitude, now that it was only her and Sam.

She waited patiently for his answer, enjoying the quiet, unlike the clanging, screaming din that was hell. She enjoyed the summer air on her skin, relished feeling warm.

People didn't realize that although hell burned, it often burned cold.

"He is, and yet, he isn't." Sam answered finally, then frowned, seeming dissatisfied with his own answer.

"He seems...less, somehow. As if he's been bleeding out all these years, the colors bleached and faded." Sam stared back out over the cliff side.

"He's careless. Raw. He may not be strong enough for our purposes." She offered finally, unsure how her king would take what some might consider a criticism. "I wasn't sure he'd ever figure out the clue you left him. Perhaps we should seek another."

Sam frowned. "The angels hand picked Dean, marking him as a righteous man, despite his failings. I want to see their weapon turned back on them. I want to see them suffer as we did. I want to see them fall."

Ava thought for a moment. "He may need to be tested. Perhaps he lacks...incentive." She said, wondering if she'd taken it too far.

But Sam just nodded. "He'll bear more watching. The potential is there, and I don't want to see it fall into the angel's hands." He agreed slowly, and Ava winced, wishing now she'd kept her mouth shut. Baby sitting was boring, and she itched for more violent sport.

Sam grinned wryly, as if reading her thoughts. "Don't worry, Princess." He teased her with his brother's words, and she scowled.

"Lily has volunteered to stay here with Max. I have some traveling to do, and she will better be able to keep me apprised of events. They'll follow him, keep him alive if they must. He's weaker than I remember, it's true, but perhaps he will improve. There are only ever a handful of righteous men living at any one given time, and Dean and my father are the last of the Winchester bloodline."

"Have you had any luck locating John Winchester?" She asked curiously. She would very much like to spend some quality time with the man who had left his son in hell.

A long time.

Sam smiled, again seeming to sense her thoughts. "Andy picked up a trail yesterday, though my father won't be found easily. When the time comes, we may have to use...incentive with him also." He grinned darkly.

"Is Jake still away?" She questioned, and he nodded. "Our brother has stumbled across something very interesting out west. That's where I'm going tonight. Anselm will travel with me. We will not return to our former base. It has outlived it's usefulness."

She nodded again, caring little. Home was a foreign concept. "And where will I be?"

"Wherever the wind takes you, kitten. Be a...free spirit. Go cause some mischief. Be loud." He added, almost as an afterthought, though Ava knew better. Sam never forgot anything.

"You want me to attract attention?" She pressed, wanting clarification.

Sam nodded. "Move fast and often. Wreck havoc and leave bodies. Create trails that lead to themselves. I don't want Azazel to know what we're up to, or where we're looking. He knows too much already. Let's give him something to worry about. Take out as many of his men as you can. See if you can leave evidence that lead other hunters to his men. Perhaps swing by that bar, the roadhouse, and stir up some trouble. Kick the hornets nest, so to speak. And no matter what, keep moving."

She nodded, smiling. Bloody mayhem was a specialty of hers.

"Lily will let you know the location of our new base. You won't be out there alone for long. Once I've had a chance to see what Jake's found, Anselm with be joining you. Just avoid to many human casualties. There will come a time we will need my brother's trust. No need to make it any harder than it already has to be."

"Are you sure he's the one?" She asked boldly. Everything depended on it. They who controlled the righteous man would win the war.

"He has to be." Sam answered darkly. "He'll come around. There are certain...steps that can be taken, if need be. When the time comes, Dean will be ready." His voice rang in the night.

All hail the king.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean packed the car up in a daze. He got in and drove, mindlessly, for hours. Eventually he found himself crossing the state border into Wisconsin.

He didn't even remember the drive. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept, or ate, or walked further than the cashier at the gas station.

His mind was a broken record, repeating the same damning words over and over and over.

Ava was taken; Sam was taken.

Ava returned; Sam returned.

Ava was a demon; Sam was a dem-

And that was where Dean clamped down tightly on his thoughts, accelerating faster, driving farther.

Sam couldn't be a demon.

Dean refused to believe it, couldn't reconcile his sweet, gentle brother with his shaggy hair and bright eyes with the feral monstrosities he'd been hunting these last seven years.

Eventually, he was forced to get a room. He slept for two whole days, ignoring everyone, Bobby, Caleb, Pastor Jim.

He stopped trying to call his father. He stopped showering. His entire world narrowed to his bed and his booze and the sentence he refused to allow his mind to finish.

On the third day, he was awakened by a loud thud against his door. Feeling jagged and untamed, he'd flung open the door, hoping it was an opponent strong enough to knock the violent horror of his thoughts right out of his mind.

There was no one to be seen, however. It was early, so early the sun was just barely cresting the trees.

Taking a leery step out of the room with his blade in his hand, he nearly tripped over the newspaper on the step of his doorway. Tacked to the newspaper was a scrap of white paper.

Scrawled across it in plain black script were two words:

_**Page Three**_

Scowling, he looked around once more before returning to the safety of his room. Tossing the paper on the bed, he paced. He stared at the newspaper, before turning away again, scowling.

He would be damned if he would play their little games.

He took a shower, and as he shaved, he watched the newspaper where it lay on the bed, coiled and as dangerous as a snake about to strike.

He went to the nearby diner, inhaling his breakfast in record time. He went back to his room and resolutely booted up his laptop, keeping the paper in the corner of his eye at all times, as if it would slither away if he turned his back for too long.

Finally, cursing, he stalked over to the bed, ripping open the paper and turning to page three.

"Teenage girl drowns during morning swim. Body never recovered. Third drowning this year. Is Lake Manitoc cursed?"

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The blond watched from the shadows as the hunter checked out of his hotel room. Relieved her ploy had worked, she looked over her shoulders at the silent boy behind her.

"Good work finding the article." She said impassively. His eyes flicked to hers though he remained silent. She tucked the black magic marker into her pants absentmindedly. She only hoped the hunter would be capable of doing his job, when the time came. It would suck to invest all this time and energy into Sam's brother only for him to fail. At least this hunt would be more entertaining to watch then the hunter's two day drinking binge.

And they were the addicts, she thought wryly.

"Sam want's us to keep him busy while he's away with Jake." She grinned a little, the smile as cold and empty as her eyes.

"We've located the hell gate." She turned back to the road, the hunter's car now nothing more than a black speck in the distance.

"Soon it will be time to hunt the angels." She whispered, visions of bloody feathers making her fingers twitch, and her smile widened.

The boy smiled a little, too. His step mother had collected angels, he remembered. They watched impassively from the mantle as his father and uncle rained down kicks and blows upon his helpless body.

Max was no longer helpless.

He'd like to watch an angel suffer as they had suffered, screaming in hell while the angels looked away, no pity for the half-demon abominations.

Yes. He would like to see an angel.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/n: Happy Croatoan Week!**

**Yay! More dark Sam, and some Lily/Max/Dean interaction. I know everyone's dying for Sam and Dean to meet, but no matter how I worked this storyline, realistically, Dean needed more time to come to accept the idea of Demon Sam for any of my story to be plausible So it is coming, but not until Sam judges Dean is ready.**

**Please please please review! There aren't a whole ton of stories like this one, and reviews and alerts let me know that people actually want a story like this. **

**I could always go write something fluffy. It's entirely possible. (maybe I could be fluffy. Possibly...)**

**As Always,**

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not my sand box**

**PS- Prisoner of War now has six chapters updates today too! Please check it out!**

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"_Start at the beginning." Dean commanded._

"_As in Genesis? Adam and Eve? Fall of Lucifer? Invention of Disco?" She asked, a wicked, fearless gleam in her eye._

"_You can skip forward a couple chapters." Dean snapped back._

"_Alright." She agreed. "Let me know when you have trouble keeping up. Seven years ago, a hunter named Gordon Walker killed a fifteen year boy by the name of Mark Gaines."_

"_Why would he do that?" Dean demanded in consternation. Hunters didn't kill kids._

"_Walker had captured a minor demon who was possessing a sixteen-year old girl. He eventually exercised the demon, killing the host in the process, but not before the demon spilled the beans about Azazel's big plans for all the special children, like Mark." She glanced up at Dean slyly._

"_Like Sam, and all the rest of us. Deciding to cut Azazel off at the pass, Walker started tracking down the special children. When Azazel's spies reported Mark Gaines's death to Azazel, he panicked. Unwillingly to risk Walker and other hunters killing off his pet project before it even got off the ground, he sent his hell hounds to drag the remaining forty-three living Arch Demons kicking and screaming to hell a little early." She paused, watching Dean's reaction._

_Dean's mind whirled. _

_Sam-Ava-Andy-Jake-Lily-Max-Anselm...he knew the other names too, of course, had spent years pouring over newspaper clippings of the forty-two other children who had disappeared the same night as his brother._

_Now he knew why, why his brother had been taken, why ALL the children were taken, and he made a mental note to track down Walker, if he was still living, and remedy that situation._

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Sam sat alone in the library of their newest apartment. Despite everything that had happened to him, he still found the presence of books comforting.

He stared musingly at the chess board in front of him. Double the standard size, it was set up unlike any normal board, with pieces of several different colors present, instead of just two.

Based on a game he had often played at against Azazel, Sam had crafted the board himself. Though he much preferred his own version.

He didn't get tortured for winning anymore.

A variety of pieces held different positions, much like a war map of old. But several colors were still missing from the game, tossed in careless piles to the side of the board. Sam frowned to himself.

He had an angel problem.

The Seven grew stronger by the day. Free of the starvation and torture of hell, they were able to leisurely explore their gifts without fear of reprisal, and each of them had discovered new quirks intrinsic to their powers. Sam's ability to communicate with others in his dreams, for example, had greatly improved once he was actually able to sleep without wondering which sibling would be screaming when next he awoke.

Jake had located the hell gate. Samuel Colt had been clever, with his devil's trap made of crisscrossing railways. But the seven wouldn't be hindered by that. They weren't truly full demons, yet. Jake had located the cemetery in the center of the trap, and Sam knew the moment he stepped into the knee high grass that this was the one.

The hell gate.

The demon factions were being dealt with satisfactorily. Sam's allies were keeping their end of the bargain. The Seven were weeding out the less talented of Azazel's henchmen, more and more by the day, in fact. They knew the location of the hell gate, and even better, full blooded demons couldn't cross it. Sam didn't count on it stopping them for long, but he would take any advantage he could. They hadn't yet located the colt, but Sam knew for a fact that neither had Azazel.

He had gleaned some important information about Lilith. While in the pit they had needed to be careful, so careful of what questions they asked, where they went, who they spoke to. Now Sam was finally able to start filling in some of the gaps in their intelligence.

Abbadon was yet to be located, but if she and Henry Winchester had used soul magic, as Sam suspected, there were only so many places they would eventually reappear. Sam might not have the mojo to kill the last remaining knight of hell, but he sure as hell could put her out of commission for a while.

Andy had discovered John's trail. They'd narrowed down his basic location, and really, Sam didn't want him involved just yet. He just needed to keep John and Azazel apart.

And then there was Dean. Sam had listened carefully as Lily had described Dean's erratic behavior over the past few days. He was actually pleased at Dean's apparent loss of ability to function. It meant that Dean had finally started to grasp the nature of his situation. Not entirely, of course. But he knew now, at least, that whatever Sam was, it was no longer simply human. That he had roused enough to chase the lead Lily and Max had provided him with showed that he would eventually bounce back. At some point, Sam would have to meet his brother, but he needed Dean to be ready.

All the other pieces were coming into play, much as he had expected.

And yet, the angels failed to appear.

He needed the angels on the board. He couldn't study his opponents until they presented themselves, and started making moves. Started making mistakes.

They needed the angels, first and foremost for their blades, capable of killing either angel or demon. He also needed to keep an eye on them, and make sure they didn't turn Dean to their purposes. But most of all, he needed them present on earth so he could fulfill his promise to his family that they would suffer for what they had allowed to happen the the siblings.

The angels needed to pay for their sins.

Gracefully, he eased to his feet, coming closer to the board, studying it even more intently. Surely heaven wasn't all just one happy family. This all started with a fight between brothers, after all. Perhaps his problem was that he was thinking of all the angels as being on the same team.

Sam needed to seek an angel who wasn't happy.

An angel who had hated heaven enough to leave it, or one who had been cast out, forsaken or...hunted.

He settled back down, closing his eyes and mentally retracing the paths of Azazel's massive library.

An hour later, he opened his eyes, smiling. Carefully, he wrote down three names. Going to his computer, he started his research, enjoying the ease the internet provided him with information. He would have to go to the old tomes for much of his information, but cross referencing was so much easier with technology. Of course, nothing beat a man on the ground, so to speak.

He wondered if Anselm would like to take a little trip.

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Dean sat at the counter in the diner, staring morosely into his cup of coffee. Will Daniels had been killed just last night, drowned in his own kitchen sink and Dean felt like he was drowning too.

He tried to focus on the case, tried to focus on the spirit, or poltergeist or whatever the hell it was racking up the damn body count here in Lake Manitoc, but he _just-couldn't-focus!_

His mother was dead.

His father was missing.

His brother was (_a demon_) missing.

Scowling, he chugged back a too-large drink of his coffee, not caring if it burned his tongue. He didn't pay attention to the young man alone in the booth by the window, patiently filling out a crossword in the newspaper.

Had he seen some of the young man's answers, he might have paid more attention, as they probably weren't the answers the editor had intended.

But Dean was too busy contemplating his failure to notice. He jumped when he realized the waitress was standing in front of him patiently, waiting to freshen his coffee. Grimacing apologetically, he held out his cup to her.

She poured smoothly, long years of practice giving ease to her actions, so when the hot coffee splashed across him hand, he jerked back in surprise, dropping his cup on the counter. The mug shattered, steaming coffee spreading out like a pool of blood across the laminate.

The waitress's eye's widened in confused apology and shock. "I'm..." She shook her head a little. "I'm so sorry Hon, I don't know what happened. You okay? Shit, I haven't burned a customer in years..." She flushed and started picking up the pieces of the broken cup.

"It's fine." Dean said distractedly, shaking his hand a little instinctively, waiting for the pain to fade.

"It's not the worst thing to happen to me this week." He said sincerely, and she smiled in gratitude.

"Well, breakfast is definitely on the house!" She declared, starting to mop up the coffee with a rag she pulled from her apron pocket. She held up the dripping sketch that Lucas Barr had given him just that morning. "Well, this one's a goner, I'm afraid." She grimaced again before looking closer.

"That's my church." she declared suddenly, smiling. "Whoever drew it did a good job. I'd recognize it anywhere."

Dean felt excitement curl in his stomach. "You don't say. You go to church here in town?" He asked as casually as he could.

"Sure do, hon. Just a few blocks over, on Pine St. A little closer to the lake." She looked at him inquisitively. "You looking to get right with the Lord, honey" She said, sympathetically.

Dean smiled bitterly. "I doubt he and I have much to talk about."

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Lily watched from across the street as Dean knocked on the door of the yellow house next to the church. She felt Max come up behind her.

"You burned him." She commented idly, one part of her mind listening in on the elderly woman inside the house with Dean. She couldn't risk riding the righteous man, but the woman was an easy target, old, frail and lonely. She was pleased that she could do this awake, at least when she was physically close enough. It had made the others nervous whenever she had needed to sleep to ride someone, as it had left her extremely vulnerable. Since getting topside, her range and control were better, and small jobs like this she could now do while awake.

She felt more than she saw Max shrug. Pulling back from the conversation inside she turned to him.

"We should call Sam. This ghost is violent. I can hear him screaming anytime we get too close to the water. I know we want Dean to step up to the bat, but I don't particularly want the righteous man drowning on my watch."

Max didn't nod, but he didn't have too. Lily rode along with him often enough that she already knew his thoughts. She never attempted to control him, but with her touch-based ability to kill being so...unpredictable, it was often easier for her to simply ride along with one of the others. None of them would refuse her, but Max seemed particularly well suited to it. Max disliked physical contact of any sort, but the quiet presence of Lily in his mind didn't bother him, and they seldom needed words to communicate with each other. Lily was Max's voice, and when necessary, he was her eyes.

"Sam will know what to do." He said quietly, with absolute assurance. She nodded.

If Sam told her to kill Dean, she'd do it without a moment's hesitation. If Sam told her to protect Dean, she'd rip the ghost out of the lake herself, if necessary.

Oddly enough, she found herself hoping Sam chose to protect Dean. Hunter or not...he had been kind to the waitress.

Perhaps it was a strange thing for a demon to notice. Dean was a righteous man, after all. But in Lily's experience, righteous and kind were seldom the same thing. Lily understood better than most just how easy it was to pay your pain forward, to share it. To hold on to it, to be the place where the pain stopped, that required strength.

Sam had strength, and Lily wondered if some of it had started out as kindness too, before Azazel and Hell. Perhaps Dean was stronger than Ava gave him credit for.

It was possible Dean's kindness might be a strength the angels were not counting on.

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Sam studied the map before him. Pins of various colors were placed at various locations, though of course Sam's eidetic memory rendered them unneeded. Like the game board, however, they soothed him.

He mind was on his earlier conversation with Lily. S

She had chosen to conference with him via a dream when Sam hadn't answered his phone, more tired than he realized when he had laid down. The results were far better than he had hoped

In their dreams, Lily was able to show him things, images and conversations that made deciphering a course of action infinitely more accurate. He hoped more of the others developed the same skill. So far, only Sam, Andy and Lily could initiate such a dream "sharing" but Jake had proved receptive, and Sam doubted that anything could really stop Lily from contacting Max if she put her mind to it.

Deciding that the two were to protect Dean at the cost of potentially being made by the hunter had been simple enough. Sam had no intentions of hiding his siblings from Dean. The sooner Dean came to terms with Sam's new family, the sooner things could proceed. Sam did not particularly like the sound of the ghost Dean was hunting.

The Dean that Sam remembered could handle a ghost by himself easily, but Sam was a numbers man. And the numbers said that the more often you found yourself in a dangerous situation by yourself, the more likely you were to eventually get unlucky. That was why he sent out his siblings in pairs most of the time. Andy should be reaching Ava by sometime tomorrow as it was.

The longer Dean hunted alone, especially in his emotionally vulnerable state, the more likely he was to make a stupid mistake and get killed, or worse.

Caught.

Perhaps Dean needed a partner, or more than one. S

Sam disliked the thought instinctively, the idea of Dean working with someone who didn't understand him was distasteful. A hunter of lesser caliber would be of no help anyway.

Hunter's seldom had full time partners, which posed yet another problem. The Winchester family had been unusual in that regard. John Winchester was out for obvious reasons. Sam thought there might still be Campbells alive, though. Azazel had long ago regaled Sam with his mother's history. Perhaps a distant cousin might fit the bill. He would have to do a little digging into that matter.

Sam once again considered the idea of trying to dream-share with his brother. He wouldn't have to actually talk to Dean, but he thought he could manipulate the dream enough to appear as a memory of his younger self. At the very least, he could better gauge Dean's emotional health. Shelving the idea for later scrutiny, he refocused on the map, placing two new pins.

Sam had sent Jake with Anselm, deciding that the scope of their search was wide enough and vague enough to warrant both of them. They were literally looking for a needle in a veritable field of hay, but if their search panned out, Sam's plans could move forward by leaps and bounds. Anselm's hunter instincts would mesh well with Jake's well honed sense of duty. They would overturn every stone if need be, considering what was at stake.

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Dean resurfaced above the water, gasping as he swung his eyes desperately to the dock. Andrea's tearful face and the Sheriff's stricken posture confirmed his fears that Lucas has not managed to make it to the surface on his own.

Peter wasn't going to let him go without a fight.

Jackknifing back down again, he pushed himself further into the murky depths. Careless of his own well being, he was determined to save the little boy or die trying.

But Lucas was no where to be seen and Dean was going to run out of air again in only a moment.

"_**I can help you save the boy. But you will have to give the ghost what it truly wants. Decide quickly."**_

The voice in his mind startled him, a bubble a precious air making it past his surprised lips before he sealed them shut again.

"_GET OUT OF MY HEAD!_" He thought back angrily. He didn't have time for this, Lucas would be as good as dead any moment now.

"_**You are running out of time. Decide." **_

The voice was calm, almost cold, and though he didn't hear it as much as he felt it, he could have sworn it was feminine.

Despairing, furious and desperate, he acquiesced.

"_Fine."_ He thought, as loudly as he could to whoever was listening.

"_**So be it."** _

The voice silenced then, and just as Dean turned to shoot back to the surface, he caught a glimpse of one pale hand floating below him. Gripping it with the last of his strength, Dean kicked skyward, pulling the unconscious boy behind him.

Hours later, Dean stood outside his motel. Lucas was safe, that much was true. Andrea and Dean had managed to get him breathing again.

But the Sheriff was gone, sacrificing himself to save his grandson, and Dean couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he hadn't gone willingly.

Feeling eyes on him, he looked up, across the road.

In the shadow of the treeline stood a girl, petite with long, pale hair, wearing dark clothes. A boy Dean recognized from the diner that morning stood behind her, and Dean felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He should have run, should have opened fire, should have jumped into the Impala and gotten the hell out of there.

What he did was slam the trunk, pull out his gun and march over to the two watchers angrily.

"Was that you, back there?" He asked, voice hard, gun unwaveringly aimed at the girls forehead. She blinked slowly, completely unafraid.

"Yes. We were there." She said simply.

"Did you kill the Sheriff? Did you force him into the lake?" Dean asked, voice shaking in fury but hand still rock steady.

She tilted her head curiously. 'Do you regret your choice?" She asked, eyes on him.

"Did. You. Kill. The. Sheriff." Dean enunciated slowly and clearly.

"No." She answered, still studying him. "Peter did. I simply did what you asked. I told the Sheriff exactly what would happen if he didn't offer himself to Peter. The ghost did the rest."

"I didn't ask you to kill him!" Dean yelled, cocking his weapon, and suddenly the boy moved.

Completely silent and still until this point, with just the barest nod of the boy's head, Dean suddenly found himself weaponless.

With stunned surprise, Dean watched the boy hand the weapon over to the girl, and she turned it over in her hands inquiringly. Large gray eyes met Deans, flickering black for a moment before returning to slate.

"It's pretty." She said, handing it back to Dean nonchalantly.

Dean swallowed. "I never asked for the Sheriff to die. I don't want his blood on my hands."

"His blood is on his own hands." It was the boy who spoke this time, his voice sounding rusty, as if he used it seldom.

The girl nodded solemnly. "Max is right. The Sheriff killed Peter. Peter killed the Sheriff. It's far more fair than life usually is, Dean."

Frustrated that they knew his name, frustrated that they had disarmed and then re-armed him so easily, frustrated that they weren't his goddamn brother, Dean snapped.

"I don't give a fuck about fair. He died on my watch, because of my decision and I DON"T LIKE IT!"

In just seconds, Dean felt himself thrown into the trunk of a nearby tree, unseen force holding him in place. The girl walked over, curiosity and idle conversation now over. Her face was cold, and her voice sounded much like the Houdoun's when she had been giving Dean his reading.

"You're the righteous man, Dean Winchester. It's time you learned that every choice you make has far reaching consequences. People have a bad habit of confusing things that are priceless with things that are free." The boy and girl started walking away in to the night.

The boy paused and turned around, opening his fist and Dean fell heavily to the ground.

Dean was getting tired of that little trick.

"Nothing is free." He said, his voice a quiet echo in the dark, and Dean shivered, vainly searching the shadows, but they were gone.

What had they meant by 'the Righteous Man', Dean wondered apprehensively.

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Close to midnight, Sam's phone rang once more. Sam answered, knowing only eight other people on the planet had that particular number.

"I have a present for you." Ava's voice sing-songed from across the line. Sam listened intently, a dark smile growing across his face. Finally, he tilted back his head and laughed outright.

"You always get me the nicest things, kitten." He said finally. "This is better than I'd hoped. Keep eyes on her. Your brother's on his way as we speak. He'll help you. And Ava, don't hurt her. She's going to be very useful. Give me two days to get there. I have a few things to wrap up here."

Snapping the phone closed, he walked over to his board. Adding a piece to one side he hadn't really expected to use, he smiled again.

This would make things very interesting indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/n: You guys don't even want to know how much sleep I'm losing over this story. Please review and let me know you think it's worth it.**

**Okay, lets see. Ohhh, new characters coming onto the board. Dean's bringing Bobby up to speed, and Sam makes a new ally. Happy Croatoan Week, kiddos, this is my gift to you. **

**As Always, **

_**EverReader**_

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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"_You keep saying Arch Demons. What the hell does that even mean?" Dean said, narrowing his eyes and turning back to his captive._

_She raised her brows. "Now you're ready for demonic history 101?" _

"_Move it along, Ava, I'm getting a little antsy to use this blade." Dean threatened._

_She grinned again. "Promises, promises. My teacher, Alistair would have loved you. Of course, that was before Sam gutted him as a birthday present for me one year. After that, I got...promoted. Until we left the company, of course."_

_Dean raised the knife promisingly, and she rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. All right. Demons. Hell is full of demons. Lots and lots of demons." She said, making a face like she was trying to explain two plus two equals for to a grown man._

"_No. Shit." Dean ground out, but she ignored him._

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The woman entered her apartment, closing the door and redoing the lock, then latching the other two locks for good measure. Placing her bag on the door inside the hall, she stepped out of her heels and moved towards the kitchen. Pale moonlight streamed across her features, revealing a pretty face, no more than twenty or so. Removing her wig, she tossed it casually next to the bag, revealing long brunette hair.

Halfway across the darkened living, she paused, well-honed instincts lighting up like the New York Cityscape at night. Whirling, she had her gun trained on the intruder in less than five seconds.

Sam smiled to himself, reaching out casually to turn on the lamp on the table beside the armchair he had commandeered.

"Hello Bela."

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Dean stared at his cell phone, the letters glowing almost obscenely in the darkened interior of the Impala.

Restlessly, he scaled back through his contacts list again, hoping by some miracle a new name would suddenly appear, someone Dean could call, someone who could give Dean some help, some god-damned answers.

John was out of the question, the numbers (seven in all) that Dean had for him were all as good as useless.

Caleb had no experience with Demons, nor did Pastor Jim, for all his religious ways. Demon possessions were rare, and the Father spent more time battling ghouls and poltergeists than the denizens of Hell. Sure, Pastor Jim could whip up a mean batch of Holy Water, but somehow, Dean didn't think that would cut it in this case.

Then there was Bobby.

Bobby had been hunting for longer than anyone Dean knew, even John, but Bobby was also unpredictable, rascally and usually more than half drunk.

He and John had had a fight, a bad one, shortly before Sam disappeared, and even Sam's abduction wasn't enough to completely bridge the chasm between the two men. Dean had never hesitated in reaching out to Bobby, just as he had contacted anyone and everyone he could think of in his search for Sammy, and the two hunters had a long established relationship. But even Bobby could be a closed-mouthed fucker, with more secrets than a Catholic priest, and Dean had never quite managed to shake his suspicions that Bobby knew more than he let on.

But then again, apparently so had John.

And at least Bobby could be counted on to answer his phone.

Dean listened to the phone ring, once, twice, then three times and he suddenly wondered what time it actually was. He was parked on a gravel road, in the middle of god knows where, too tired to drive, to scared of his dreams to sleep.

"If this isn't a Winchester, hang the hell up!" The gruff voice startled Dean, even though he'd realized as soon as he heard it how desperately he had actually been to hear Bobby answer.

"Bobby...it's me." Dean swallowed, feeling small and scared, at a total loss for words all of a sudden.

How could he tell the man that he thought of as a second father that he was pretty sure his little brother had been kidnapped, somehow taken to hell, and had now returned...as a demon?

"Dean? That you boy?" Bobby suddenly sounded one hundred times more awake, and at least slightly more sober.

Dean swallowed, the words still refusing to come, and Dean had a sudden flash back to standing in Bobby's kitchen as a remorseful eight year old, holding his screaming four year old brother as Bobby tried to ascertain whether Sam's broken arm needed an x-ray.

"Bobby..." Dean choked out, realizing it didn't matter what words he picked, tried to force past his numb lips, because they wouldn't have been understood anyway.

"I think..." Dean gasped, fighting for control, smacking his fist against the steering wheel of the Impala.

"I think..." Dean started again, determined to get it out. Two words, just two words, and then the chips could fall where they would.

"Sammy's back."

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Bela stood facing the intruder, studying him carefully, clever mind storing away every detail for later use.

Sam smiled at her, appreciating her calculations, her audacity, even when at such an obvious disadvantage.

"You can put that away, if you'd like." He said, standing smoothly, watching as her eyes widened as she took in just how tall he was.

He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a small object, setting it down gently beside her lamp, and she recognized the clip to her gun.

Realizing her arm was shaking now too badly to hit the broadside of a barn, even if her gun had still been loaded, she lowered her arm.

"Who are you?" Her upper crust accent made the words clipped, precise yet musical.

"I think you know." Sam said, gesturing with his head to the ghost board on the coffee table. "I'm sure your friends on the other side have been gossiping about the Seven non-stop for the past few weeks."

Her eyes widened at his mention of the word Seven, and she paled suddenly, swallowing. Deciding that anyone as royally fucked as she was at that moment deserved to die sitting down, she eased herself into the chair across from him.

She looked up into his eyes, thinking for a moment how unfair it was that such trustworthy looking eyes could belong to one of the most dangerous beings on the planet.

"You're him." She said, looking away, out the window, towards the boats on the bay.

"You're Sam Winchester. You're the Boy King." She acknowledged, ignoring the shakes racking her frame, determined to die as she had lived.

Bela Talbot didn't do 'victim'.

Not since she was thirteen.

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Bobby listened as Dean managed to finally pour out the entire story, tactfully ignoring the occasional sob that Dean was unable to suppress.

They were both silent, afterward, Bobby deep in thought, Dean relishing the unexpected feeling of relief his confession had brought.

"But you haven't actually seen Sam?" Bobby clarified.

Dean closed his eyes tiredly, shaking his head before realizing that Bobby was two states away, and answered "No. Just the other three...whatever the hell they were. They looked like Demons, Bobby, with their eyes going dark, and they smelled like demons, and that Ava girl had sure as hell talked like a demon. They had powers like nothing I've ever come across Bobby, I'm serious, I wouldn't wanna go a round with one of them. They were _demons_, but..." Dean trailed of, unsure as to word his next thoughts.

"But?" Bobby encouraged.

Dean sighed again. "They didn't act like demons. Saving me in that alley, helping me save Lucas? The kind of mojo those three have, I should have been wearing my insides on my outside, but I've walked away twice now without so much as a scratch. Hell, Bobby, they've helped me on two separate cases now. Demons don't help hunters, they eat them for freaking breakfast, man!" Dean leaned his head back against the headrest of the Impala, knowing he wouldn't be able to last much longer without a couple hours horizontal.

"Don't make no sense, you're right about that. Unless..." This time it was Bobby who trailed off, and Dean's head shot up, suddenly feeling much more alert.

"Bobby?" Dean said, heart pounding suddenly for some unknown reason.

"Well...maybe..." Bobby paused again and Dean stifled the urge to scream.

"Bobby!" Dean snapped, at the end of his rope.

"Well, dammit, Dean, you said it yourself, you think Sam is hiding from you. But these other kids obviously know where he is, are somehow communicating with him. What if...he's sending them to help you?" Bobby let out a sigh of his own, praying he wasn't raising Dean's hopes for nothing.

"You mean, Sam might not be a demon like the others?" Dean asked, a thousand pounds of pressure behind the words.

"I don't know what I mean, Dean. Except that you're sure Sam's back, and the only people who've seen him are helping you, Demon or not. Maybe whatever they did to those kids didn't work. They didn't...demonize right, or whatever the hell you call it. The process went wonky, and they're not real demons, or not evil demons, or...dammit, I don't even know what I'm saying, Dean, but I know what I _mean_. Maybe Sam's still Sam, at least some part of him, anyway." Bobby's voice held a frustration that Dean could emphasize with, his own head was a jumbled maze of hurt and fear and painful, screaming hope.

"Then why doesn't he come to me, Bobby? Call me, show up, something! He obviously knows where I am!" Dean's voice held seven years of anguish and Bobby's heart broke just a little more for than man he secretly thought of as his son.

"It may not be that simple, Dean. He could be hurt, or scared. He may feel ashamed, or he believes you'll turn on him. John raised you boys to see the world in black and white, the the demons you're describing to me sound like all kinds of shades of gray. He hasn't seen you in what, seven years?"

"Seven years, three weeks and two days." Dean said, rolling the numbers off with mind shattering ease. He could have given the hours, minutes and seconds if Bobby had requested it.

"Look, all I'm saying is, whether or not he's come to see you himself, he's made contact. He's sending his..." Bobby hesitated over the word, but could find no better alternative, "friends to help you. Maybe he's working up the courage. But Dean..." Bobby's voice hardened then, and Dean felt chills rack up his spine.

"Make sure you're ready to face him, Dean. Whatever he is, he's obviously not the kid you used to tuck in at night. Know what you want going into this Dean. If you say or do the wrong thing, you may not get a second chance."

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Sam studied the girl in front of him, taking note of her pale, resolute features, lips pinched in a grim line as she fought back her shaking.

He liked her stoicism. It marked her as a survivor, and survivors were dangerous.

They knew exactly what they were capable of, after all.

"Why do you think I'm here to kill you?" He asked offhandedly, moving to face out the window, taking a moment to appreciate the moonlight on the water. He didn't need to see her surprise, her shock resonated across the room, like music to his ears, long accustomed to listening to his opponents faintest tells.

"Aren't you?" She bit out acerbically.

He smiled a little to himself. She might be a survivor, but she had no real sense of the scope of just what she had managed to get embroiled in.

"You mean, because of your little deal?" He asked companionably, turning back to face her.

She tensed further, and he chuckled lowly. "Oh yes, I know all about that. It was all the talk in hell shortly after I arrived. Your deal made headlines, Bela."

She snarled, "I'm so glad it was amusing to you!"

He raised his brows at her. "I wouldn't put it that way."

"Then, just how would you describe it?" She asked scathingly.

"Interesting." He answered flatly, all traces of congeniality gone for a split second, and Bela felt her shivers returned.

But then he smiled again, and a part of her mind railed at a god who would give a demon a smile like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

Demon or not, Sam Winchester was beautiful.

But then again, Lucifer had been an angel once, too.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean drove, the open highway silent and empty, a dark road to an uncertain destination. He thought he was heading west, or maybe it was south now.

He really couldn't care.

Dean knew he was well past the point of sleep deprivation, couldn't remember what it felt like to not be tired.

But his mind was buzzing, full of everything he and Bobby had discussed.

Could Bobby be right? Demon or not, could some part of Sam still be...Sam?

John had raised Dean to be a hunter, to hunt and kill the monsters, but more than that, he had raised Dean to hate the monsters.

And did Dean ever hate them. He hated them, all of them, felt joy with every silver bullet shot from his gun, every match lit over an open grave.

But Dean hated nothing so much as he hated Demons. Demons killed his mother, stole his brother, drove his father to the teetering edge of alcoholism (and in his darker moments, insanity).

Dean would happily have the word "Christo" tattooed across his forehead if he thought it would hurt the bastards every time they had to so much as look at him.

But if Bobby was right, then Sam was a demon.

But he was also still Sam.

Could he be fixed? Could Dean find some priest to exorcise him, or a witch to lay some spell on him?

Could Sam still be saved?

None of Sam's actions were particularly evil, as far as Dean could tell.

Perhaps Bobby was right, and Sam was afraid, of Dean and John and their reactions, ashamed of what they had done to him in hell.

What if Sam needed Dean's help?

Could he turn away from Sammy, even a potentially demonic Sammy, if there was even the smallest chance of saving him?

Hadn't Dean spent the last seven years of his life crying and begging and pleading and _praying_ for just the smallest chance to get his brother back?

What if this was it?

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"Do you know how the economy of Hell works, Bela?" Sam asked, studying the art on her walls, as casually as he'd ask her if she'd been to Disney World.

She rolled her eyes, annoyed despite her fear. "They didn't exactly cover it in school." She said.

"The failings of Catholic education." He murmured to himself in amusement. He looked back at her.

"They never teach you things with any real world value, do they?"

"What's your point?" She asked, eyes locked on his.

Smiling at the return of her forthright attitude, he sat down again. "Hell has a currency. Most people don't realize it, but it does."

She raised a brow. "Do demons accept American Express?" She replied snappily.

He laughed. "Some, perhaps." He chuckled again. "Interests rates like those would make me wonder, personally." His smiled faded.

"Souls, Bela. The currency in hell is souls. The souls of people sent to hell. They hold a certain...set value of sorts, almost like slaves in the old days. Some are more valuable then others. Better security, you might say. They may be more likely to becomes demons, or simply more likely to succumb to the miasma of the pit, translating into raw, potential power. That's where much of an average demon's power comes from, you see. Souls are power. Now, there are several...shall we say, factions of demons who specialize in collecting souls. Crossroads demons, and such the like Think of them like competing companies. Then there are the mavericks, free lancers who go after more high risk investments."

"Like me?" She queried, fascinated and appalled.

"Exactly like you, Bela." Sam confirmed. "You were what, thirteen? Barely, if I recall. There's a rule, of sorts, called the age of accountability. It's what stops demons from striking deals with four-year olds. Before a soul has reached a certain age and maturity, no matter whether the demon upholds their end of the bargain or not, the deal won't hold. Children are immune, to an extent. That's why your deal made waves the way it did, Bela. No one was sure it stick, and no one wanted to be left holding bad stock. But then, out of the blue, a major player came forward and bought your contract. Do you know who I'm talking about?" He watched her, hawk like.

She swallowed, nodding. "Lilith. Her name is Lilith."

Sam smiled. "And that is where I come in Bela. You see, I think we can be...beneficial to each other. You help me by doing what you do best. I find myself in need of an acquisitions expert, and you fit the bill to a 'T'."

"And why should I help you?" She asked boldly.

His smile could have made stars fall. "Because you have nearly three years left on your contract. If I succeed, by then, Lilith will be rendered harmless. Unable to cash in your contract. You'd be free, Bela, for the first time in your life."

"Why do you want to kill her?" Bela asked, hoping making her voice waver.

Sam didn't bother to correct her misunderstanding, choosing to answer her real question. "Because then I, and my siblings, with be free for the first time in our lives also, Bela."

He stood, offering her his hand. "What do you say, Bela? Up for one more deal?"

She stared at him intently. Grasping his hand, she asked one question.

"What do you need me to find?"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: And here we have the next chapter of ATPM. So, a few notes. Please, please review. This story continues to have lots of views and alerts, but not always a lot of reviews when I update, and reviews genuinely help me with my writing. This story kind of balances on a delicate edge between twisted and dark and hopeful, and reviews let me know I haven't fallen too far to either side.**

**Also, since I got some positive response to Bela being introduced, I thought I would open a poll for this story. Since it's set up to be pretty long, there is lots of oppurtunities for some other great cannon characters to appear. If you go to my profile, you can access the poll and let me know some of the other characters you'd like to see in the story. Honestly, I won't change the storyline just to humor the poll results, but there are some plot arcs that could be accomplished via a couple of different characters, and I thought it might be more enjoyable for my readers if I can manage to work in their favorites. Don't worry, just because you don't see someone on the poll doesn't mean they won't be present, it just means I already know they are going to show up, so having them in the poll was pointless.**

**Please vote, and please review.**

**Next updates for all my active projects are due out Sunday!**

**As Always,**

**_EverReader_ **

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Seven**

"**Threads of the Web"**

"_There all many kinds of demons, many tiers of demons-"_

"_I know." Dean interrupted impatiently, aware that he was probably running short on time before his brother arrived._

"_No!" She snapped back seriously, perhaps for the first time since the interrogation had started._

"_You don't know. You really, truly don't. Demons are souls, Dean, human souls that get sent to hell when they die. Hell is... relentless, like the tide, it wears you down and changes your shape. Most souls eventually just dissolve in the cloud of pain and suffering they call air down there. Slightly stronger souls retain their autonomy, but loose their memories, their minds. They're nothing but violence and hate given shape. Still stronger ones become the demons you're used to seeing, capable of possessing people and wrecking purposeful mayhem." She paused._

"_Like the Phantom Traveler." He supplied, falling under the spell of her words despite himself._

"_The very same. The longer they live, the more powerful they become, but the Arch Demons often kill any who get too strong. Demons are capitalists. We don't like competition." _

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Anselm studied the the wreckage around them, frowning.

Sam would probably disapprove. They had been a little...messy.

The warehouse was awash with blood and bodies, and sulfur dusted the floor and danced in the air.

Anselm absently wiped his knife against his jeans. They were pretty much ruined anyway. Stretching out the kinks in his back, he picked his way carelessly across the carnage.

Jake was holding the last, struggling survivor against the wall, and the demon was gibbering in terror, it's meat suit stinking of filth and fear. Jake had already carved the locking sigil into it's arm.

Jake's eyes were glowing brightly, and Anselm stood back, enjoying watching his brother work. With one hand, Jake reached up and wrenched an old water pipe out of the ceiling, severing it with a single yank. Using his telekinisis, he wrapped first one of the captive's wrists, then the other with the separate ends of the pipe, effectively chaining the demon to the wall, arms spread widely.

Anselm casually poured a circle of salt around the two of them, then, assured his brother would be fine with his new playmate, he made his way to the back.

"Why does Azazel have a base here?" Jake demanded coldly, and the sound of something snapping could be heard for a moment before the captive demon screamed again.

He started to wander away, deciding to investigate the back rooms. The gang of demons had been running a dog fighting ring, and many of the rooms were full of rusty, broken cages. Water dripped from the ceiling, and mold grew in the corners and along the old base boards.

Anselm whistled as he walked, enjoying the movement, the feel of his body in motion. Azazel had delighted in keeping him in a cage.

People were not meant to be put into cages, not even demons.

It did something to them.

A low growl caught his attention as he passed what appeared to be a darkened office. An old filing cabinet, drawers askew, spilled it's contents across the floor, the papers covered with footprints and paw prints, and, of course blood.

Anselm growled back, smiling in delight. Eyes lighting up wickedly, he drew his blade. Edging into the room, he crouched into a fighting stance as smoothly as any dancer. His eyes adjusted to the dark effortlessly, and his movements were fluid, like shadows given a life of their own.

He approached the darkest corner, the source of the growling. Shoving away a broken office chair, he pulled up in surprise.

The dog was beautiful, under the filth and blood and scars. Or perhaps that's why it was so beautiful to him.

Solid black, with the sleek lines of a doberman, for some reason it brought to mind the hell hounds Anselm had learned to commune with in hell. First he had specialized in hunting them. But eventually, he'd come to realize they were nothing more than the tools of the masters, like he and his siblings, and his relationship with them changed.

The dog growled again, lunging forward, snapping and snarling.

"_**Be still**_." He said the words mildly enough, but the power flowing through him made them echo in the small room. Immediately, the dog ceased it's attack, but unlike Anselm expected, it didn't lay down, meek and whimpering, like most animals would when exposed to Anselm's power.

Instead, though it quieted, it sat neatly, head raised, alert, and cocked slightly to the side.

Like it was waiting for orders.

Anselm smiled.

Kneeling down, he grabbed the dog by it's muzzle, staring into it's eyes. The dog stared back patiently, and his smile widened.

His fingers found the dog's ratty collar, and the tarnished charm still attached, held only by a few threads. In the dim light filtering through the broken window high up the window, he could make out the crudely etched letters.

This time he laughed out loud.

_'Dante'_

He'd always wanted a dog.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Jake broke the demon's other knee cap, thankful the demon hadn't caved as quickly as he'd first feared. He had more than a little frustration to work out.

Sam had given them a handful of names and a general starting point, and unlike Jake's success in locating the hell gate, this time they were encountering nothing but stale mate after stale mate.

Azazel had nests of demon's all over this area, but they were nothing more than lackeys, reporting facts mindlessly to their superiors, who reported those facts to _their_ superiors, until the information made it's way up the chain of command to Azazel.

But none of the lower demons knew what any of the others were watching for, or who they were spying on. None of them knew enough to give them anything useful to work on.

"Who else were you watching?" Jake demanded, twitching the handle of the knife where it protruded from the demon's thigh, and the demon wailed again. Jake did it a second time out of sheer annoyance. This time it sobbed an answer, though it made little damn sense to Jake.

"Not a who. A place. A bookstore. Never knew why. Just supposed to keep a log of who came in and out, and where shipments were sent." It gasped.

"Did you find any patterns?" Jake narrowed his eyes.

The demon shook it's head frantically. "No, just like the last six stores. We would have moved on in a couple of days, probably."

Jake paused, thoughtfully. Then giving the blade another twist for good measure, he asked, "Were you looking for a patron, or an artifact?"

"I...don't...know..." It wheezed. Jake frowned. Stepping back, he began the recitation of the exorcism that would end the demon's existence.

The demon's eyes widened, and it thrashed against it's bonds, body bowing against the pipes, but in just a few moments, Jake was left in a circle of salt with nothing more than a bloody corpse.

"Anselm!" He called, heading to look for his brother. "Let's torch this place and move. The next nest is three towns over, and I don't want them to catch on before we get there."

He paused in surprise when Anselm appeared in the door way, with what appeared to be a black doberman walking calmly beside him.

Already seeing where this was going, he shook his head. "No way, man. No way. Sam's not gonna let you have a dog. You're a demon, demon's don't have pets!"

Anselm smiled, eyes lit up, and Jake shook his head exasperatedly.

"Let me guess." He said. "You already called Sam."

Anselm knelt to pet the dog's head. Looking up at his brother, his gleaming eyes nearly glowed in the dimness of the room.

"His names Dante." Was his only reply, as he stood, tossing Jake the cell phone.

"He pisses in the car, and I'll cook him for dinner." Jake warned, and Anselm tilted his head in acknowledgment.

"Can't leave you alone for ten minutes..." Jake muttered, heading to the car to get lighter fluid.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava studied her handiwork appreciatively. The nest of Demons was demolished and she hadn't so much as lifted a finger. While normally she would find taking a back seat like that boring, she had enjoyed the chance to act our her chosen character.

When a poor, brutalized and bloody girl had practically fallen in the door of the roadhouse, the hunters had practically lined up to follow her back to her "attackers".

They'd wrecked beautiful carnage on the nest, and had tortured leads to two more nests out of a captive before they'd exorcised him. Sam had been right, few creatures on earth were more blood thirsty than a hunter. The demons had never even seen Ava, and she could move on, trusting the vengeful hunters to cause mischief well enough on their own.

She'd only wished she'd managed to stumble across Gordon Walker in her travels. He had to still be alive. He;d never ended up in hell, at least not while they'd been there, because there was no way Sam wouldn't have found out.

And there was no way he was taking the elevator up, that was for sure. She'd simply have to keep her eyes open. Eventually they'd find him, and Ava intended to see him experience pain like no living creature had ever experienced pain before.

She knew exactly how to do it, too.

Ava wanted to start making her way to back towards Sam. Like a spider, he currently had threads reaching in dozens of directions, and Ava always enjoyed being in the center of the action. Like the others, she started to get antsy when she was away from her siblings for too long, especially Sam.

She also hoped Sam would let her follow up on the lead she'd come across. A trickster god who didn't die when staked by wood from a sacred tree. She had a hunch, and if it played out, she would win her bet with Lily over who got the first angel blade. It only seemed fair that she be rewarded for all her hard work recently.

Jake had just told her the night before that Anselm gotten a dog, after all. If Anselm got to have a pet, she wanted to hunt down a pagan god.

Fair is fair.

Hopping into the sapphire blue mustang she'd borrowed, she headed down the highway. Whipping out her cell phone, she called Andy, two towns over to the east.

He answered on the second ring. "What's up, princess?" He teased, and she scowled at the nickname Dean had given her, wishing Sam hadn't told the others.

"Anselm got a dog." She replied, taking a turn one handed, so fast she could smell burning rubber.

"I know." Came Andy's easy going voice. "Psychic twin bond, and all that jazz." He said dismissively. "You on the move already?"

"Yes. I want to talk to Sam. I have a lead, but he might not want me to go alone." She replied, pouting.

"Pick me up." Andy said. "I'm torching the last house as we speak. I'll head up with you."

"Bossy." She snarled, snapping her phone shut, and accelerating even more, simply because she could.

As she drove, she mused on the trickster god.

The funny thing about that was that she'd once heard Rainier and Alistair talking about how the knights of hell had destroyed Loki centuries back. Her lips curled into a dark smile.

Who would pretend to be a pretender?

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Dean didn't remember falling asleep, though asleep he must obviously be.

He knew these woods, though he hadn't walked them in nearly a decade.

These were the woods surrounding Pastor Jim's cabin in the in northern Minnesota. Though the Father was seldom able to leave his church at Blue Earth for very long, he always kept the cabin well maintained for use by any hunters who needed the respite. He and Sam had visited often as children, whenever John was injured and needed a safe haven to heal up in.

He had learned to shoot behind the cabin, picking off empty bottles of Jack and Jim from the sawn-off stump left in the yard for that very purpose.

When Sammy had gotten old enough, Dean had taught him, using the same stump.

Dean could see the rear of the cabin now, peaking through the trees. His feet crunched through the fallen leaves, and he could smell winter in the air despite the sunshine that warmed the afternoon sky.

The crack of a rifle sounded then, startling a pair of raven's from a nearby oak tree, and Dean stilled instinctively.

Slowly, he smiled.

Yes, he remembered this.

Coming around the last tree, an ancient maple with falling leaves like crimson stars, he stopped, taking in the scene in front of him. The Impala was in the driveway, and smoke curled lazily from the cabin's chimney.

"Watch the kick back!" He called without thinking, falling easily into the memory of that day.

Sam tossed a crooked grin at Dean over his shoulder,before facing the target once again. Squaring off, he fired off a trio of rapid shots, nailing each bottle cleanly in the center, and the sound of broken glass raining down reached Dean's ears. His heart swelled with remembered pride.

Sam had always been a natural at target practice.

Sam turned to Dean, and Dean reached out to take the gun, muscle memory latching the safety, then leaning the gun against the old picnic table.

Sam climbed on top of the table, sitting cross legged as he studied Dean with curious, bright eyes.

"You're late." He said, matter-of-factly, and Dean frowned a little, trying to remember his next line.

Brow smoothing as the words came to him across the years, he smiled.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the chocolate bar and tossed it one-handed to the kid in front of him.

"But I'm awesome." Dean said.

Sam's smile lit up his face, and Dean smiled back instinctively. Slowly it faded, though, and he studied Sam's face, trying to place his age.

Giving in to the whimsical nature of the dream, he decided to just ask him.

"How old are you right now, Sammy?" He said, leaning against the table beside his brother.

Sam paused in the act of shoving a piece of chocolate into his mouth. "Uhh...twelve, last I checked." He said, giving Dean a weird look, and Dean laughed, despite himself.

He turned his face up to the deep blue of the autumn sky, and sighed.

"What's up with you?" Sammy asked, edging closer to Dean until he could just manage to rest his chin on Dean's shoulder. Dean could smell chocolate on his breath, and the pine scent of the cheap shampoo John always bought.

Dean said nothing for a moment, and Sammy waited in patient silence with him.

Finally, Dean sighed again and said. "You're missing kiddo. You've been missing for seven years, and I haven't been able to find you. No matter what I did or where I looked, you were just...gone." Dean trailed off sadly.

"That sucks." Sam said sympathetically, leaning back, and Dean fought down the unreality of having this conversation with a dream-Sam after all this time.

"Tell me about it." Dean agreed good-naturedly. "Thing is, now you're back, and I don't know what to do."

"Why do you have to do anything?" Sammy asked reasonably, always asking why, even in Dean's dream/memories and the sudden tightness in his throat made Dean want to scream.

"'Cause you might not have come back right." Dean admitted lowly, looking into Sammy's large hazel eyes.

Solemnly, Sam offered Dean the last of the chocolate, and Dean found himself reaching for it without meaning to.

"You think I'm a monster, now?" Sam asked nonchalantly, and Dean sucked in a pained breath.

"I don't...know." He admitted reluctantly, and Sam nodded sagely.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"You could kill me?" Sammy offered helpfully, and suddenly Dean was laughing, only laughter wasn't supposed to come with silent tears, was it?

Sam hopped down from the table, brushing his hands on his jeans. Peering up at Dean through his bangs, he pursed his lips in a faint bitch face.

"What do you want to do, Dean?" Sam asked curiously, and Dean looked at him brokenheartedly.

"I want to stay here." He answered truthfully.

"Don't be stupid, Dean. This is just a dream." Sammy scoffed, and Dean marveled at the fact that he was getting talked down to by a figment of his own imagination.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Either I came back bad, or I just came back different, and you don't know which? That's the problem, right?"

Dean nodded. "Pretty much."

"Sooo..." Sam lifted his arms up widely, turning in a circle. "Why don't you just...walk away. Go be Dean Winchester,_ just Dean_, instead of Dean Winchester, big brother. Just..." He shrugged, backing away.

"Let me go," Sam offered, shoving his hands into his pockets, frowning with his eyebrows in the way he always did when he genuinely couldn't understand Dean's actions.

"I can't!" Dean whispered brokenly. "Not after all these years of looking. I don't have it in me. Mom's gone, Dad's god knows where. I just...want you back."

Sam smiled his crooked half smile, his eyes solemn as he studied his brother. "It sounds like you already know what you want, then."

Sammy continued to back away, and Dean reached out, not wanting him to leave, not ready to wake up.

"Someone's calling you." Sammy said, nodding down at Dean's pants leg, and Dean realized Sam was right, his phone was ringing, he reached to answer it-

"Hello?" He said groggily, sitting up, back protesting from slumping in the drivers seat of the Impala.

Early morning sunlight was streaming in the car windows, and an eighteen wheeler blared past just then, rocking the car in it's back draft.

"Dean? Where the hell are you? I expected you here hours ago!" Bobby's worried voice shoot through Dean like a hit of caffeine, and he straightened, staring around confusedly.

"I guess I pulled over and caught a couple hours of shut eye." He admitted, rubbing sleep from his eyes one handed.

"On the side of the road? Unprotected?" Bobby somehow managed to get louder, and Dean held the phone away from his ear, wincing.

"Apparently." He agreed, yawning again.

"Stupid Idjit!" He heard Bobby muttering. "Well, maybe it's for the best. I need a favor. I need you to head out to Colorado. I know this shit with Sam's just hitting the fan, but this is serious."

"What's up? Have you heard from Dad?" Dean asked, stomach tightening at the thought of having to share what he had learned about Sam with John.

"No, still nothing but radio silence on that end. Unfortunately, though, he's not the only hunter to go AWOL this week. You remember Rufus, my old partner?" Bobby asked.

Dean frowned, racking his brain. "Um, yeah. Yeah, sure. Nut job, only drinks the expensive stuff."

"That about sums him up. He headed up to Colorado a few days ago. He was thinking it was a werewolf out there in the woods by a place called Black Water Ridge. But he hasn't checked in in two days, and the more I read, the more I'm think Wendigo or Black Dog."

Dean whistled lowly. "Silver bullets won't do much more than piss a Wendigo off." He agreed, rubbing his forehead.

His mind was still a torn mass of confusion, with thoughts of John and Sam and Demons dancing around like drunken revelers at Mardi Gras.

But hunters watched out for their own, and Dean couldn't afford to be shunned by the hunter community, the information network alone was to invaluable.

"Text me the coordinates." He said finally, and he heard Bobby sigh in relief.

"I owe you one, kid." Bobby agreed. "On the plus side, Sam's new friends don't seem to have any trouble keeping up with you. Maybe you'll run into one of them again."

"Maybe." Dean replied, worrying his lip.

He wondered if that was what he really wanted. He hung up, and sat there for a moment, waiting for the coordinates to come through on his phone.

His mind wandered back over his dream, his conversation with his imaginary brother replaying in a loop in his minds eye.

"_Just let me go."_

"_I can't."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Sam opened his eyes, staring into the early morning sky. He was laying on his back in the roof of their newest apartment building. He'd found it easier to reach out to Dean's mind away from the constraints of the walls and ceiling of his bedroom.

He watched as the last of the stars faded, thinking about the conversation he'd had with his brother, the first in over seven years, or eight centuries, depending on how you looked at it.

He hadn't been sure how well he would play off being his childhood self. It had been so very long ago that Sam had actually been that child. Fortunately for him. Dean's mind had seemed almost eager for the contact, launching easily into a memory that Sam had managed to ease into relatively well.

That Dean had started to talk to him so frankly had surprised him, and Sam honestly hadn't been entirely sure what to say. He'd gone into the dream with the intention of gathering information, of gauging Dean's emotional help, not to give advice to his older-younger brother.

Dean had lost Sam seven years ago. Sam had lost Dean over eight hundred years ago. The disconnect between Sam, the Boy King, and Sammy, Dean Winchester's little brother was a wide and deep as the ocean, and Sam wasn't sure he wanted to build a boat to bridge it.

Sammy Winchester had been weak. He hadn't been prepared, hadn't been strong enough, fast enough, smart enough to avoid Azazel, and as a consequence, he'd been dragged to the pit for over eight hundred years.

Sammy Winchester was gone, as lost as the stars in the morning sky.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: And here we go with the next chaper of ATPM. Reviews are deeply appreciated, and if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to hit me up, I love knowing how the story is coming across, and I will always respond to questions or confusion, because I want you to enjoy the story. This story continues to have a lot of alerts, but not a lot of reviews, so please take a moment. Also, if you haven't gone to my profile, go check out the poll I have running for this story. I want to try to work in everyones favorite characters.**

**I started a new, fluffier project you might like if fluff is your thing, called "How To Fix A Winchester" and my other AU, "Prisoner of War" updated on Thursday. If you follow my "Confession's Verse" stories, I hope to have an update for "Confessions of a Boy King" up tomorrow, and the original two stories in that 'Verse, "Confessions of a Toy Soldier" and "The Samulet Confessions" are both complete.**

**Remember, I do accept prompts for the Confessions 'Verse, and I will also be accepting prompts for "How To Fix A Winchester", which is comprised of hurt/comfort stand-alones, if that is your flavor.**

**So, just to summarize, I have an ansty AU, a REALLY DARK angsty AU, an angsty CC project, and a fluffy CC project. Pretty much everything but Destiel. Sorry kids, but even though I don't write it, I am a passenger on the good ship SS Wincest. My stories don't feature it (they don't particularly feature romance of any flavor), but that's why you won't find Destiel in them either.**

**Sorry for the world's longest AN. Thanks for your patience and reviews.**

**Trigger Warnings- The whole story. **

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox**

**All The Pretty Monsters - Chapter Eight**

**"Answers & Unspoken Questions"**

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"_You said it again. Arch Demons. What are Arch Demons?" Dean demanded, sensing he was getting closer to the information he sought._

"_What I am." She supplied unhelpfully, "And what your brother is."_

"_Be. More. Specific." He ground out._

_She swallowed, then continued on, suddenly seeming reluctant. "Azazel, his daughter Meg, Lilith, all the knights of hell, they're all Arch Demons." She watched him, catlike._

"_What does that mean? What makes you different?" He questioned sharply._

"_We're stronger." She replied. "Hallowed ground doesn't affect us. Only a perfectly drawn devil's trap can hold us, and usually not for long. The effects of salt seldom work on us. Exorcisms are only as good as the exorcist. We have a variety of other abilities, it varies with the demon. And we have our own minds, our own wills. An arch demon is the most dangerous enemy hell could send after you."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Andy sat across from Sam, studying his king.

Sam looked..._off_ somehow.

He looked pale and tired, though Andy knew Sam wasn't going without either food or the dark red, and they needed much less sleep than any average human.

Perhaps he was simply overreaching himself, trying to keep too many balls in the air. Sam had Andy's sibs stretched out across the country, sometimes forced to work on their own, which he knew Sam disliked. Any one of them was more than capable of handling themselves, but they'd lost so many of the other kids in hell.

And Sam wore every one of their names on his skin like a promise.

"Something's off about this 'trickster god', Sam. I know it." Ava was saying, making her case. "Do you remember Azazel bragging about the glory days of the Knights of Hell, and how they made it a point to go after any of the old pagan gods they came across?"

Sam nodded wordlessly, simply listening as she made her point. That was something Andy admired endlessly in Sam. All information, no matter it's source, was useful to Sam. He wasn't someone who made an opinion, and than ignored any new facts that argued against it. He was always taking in new information and altering his plans accordingly.

"Well, I'm sure one of the gods he mentioned them killing was Loki." She said, eyes flashing with dark excitement. "This trickster god can't be Loki. It's a pretender."

"Loki was called a trickster god for a reason, Ava." Sam pointed out reasonably, not talking down to her, but simply playing devil's advocate, forcing her to outline her own thoughts out loud.

It was brilliant strategy, Andy mused, because despite Ava's apparent irreverence and general demeanor of flippancy, she was sharp as a tack, clever, calculating and observant. Like Sam, she also occasionally had visions, though that particular ability had fallen mostly to the wayside as she grew into her other powers.

"But the hunters at the Roadhouse mentioned that another hunter called Martin went after the guy with a sacred stake. Not only did it not work, but now the guy's locked up in a closed psych ward, dribbling applesauce on himself."

Sam stared thoughtfully at her for a moment before nodding. "Take your brother with you." He said finally.

She pouted a little. "Which one? Why not Lily?" Andy marveled at her ability to simultaneously worship Sam and act like his bratty little sister. Fortunately, it seemed to amuse Sam.

Perhaps that was why she did it.

"Lily and I need to follow up on a lead Jake and Anselm came across. Take Max or Anselm, your choice Princess." Sam's eyes gleamed with dark mischief and Andy snorted.

Ava hated the nick name bestowed on her by Dean Winchester, and her siblings weren't letting her off easy.

"Anselm." She declared finally, pursing her lips a little. "By the way, if he gets a dog, can I get a pet too?" She asked, eyes lighting up in a way that put Andy on red alert.

"Not if you're thinking of a tiger." Sam replied, without missing a beat. "They're a pain in the ass to house break." He said with utter seriousness.

She smirked at him. "I was thinking more along the lines of an arch angel." She tossed off as she stood.

Sam cocked his head at her. "If Bela locates what I sent her to find, you might just get your wish. Be careful, Ava." He said commandingly, all playfulness gone, once again their King.

"Everything ends bloody, Sam." She replied back, just as seriously.

It wasn't like any of them actually expected a happy ending.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Gordon watched the vampire from the shadows. It was young, for a vampire, turned only a few weeks ago. It's creator shouldn't have left it alone so soon.

It had been a girl, once, and a young one, at that. Perhaps thirteen or fourteen, with long red hair and large dark eyes. She was pretty, or she would be if she wasn't an evil, blood thirsty animal.

Judging the time to be right, Gordon sprung. The frightened vampire leapt back, catlike, backing further into the alley, and Gordon grinned as she backed herself into a dead end.

She was a stupid monster, what a bonus.

With a practiced swing of his machete, the creatures head was severed from it's body, red tresses tangling in the now bloody garbage that was strewn about the pavement.

"Do you know how hard it was to find a dark-eyed redhead?" The annoyed voice sounded behind Gordon, and the hunter swung about smoothly, machete at the ready.

He was unprepared for the sight of the four vampires in front of him though. Two he could handle, maybe three if he had the benefit of surprise on his side. Four however, would be at least one too many, and Gordon reluctantly acknowledged to himself that this time, the hunter had become the hunted.

They sprang as one, like a pack of lions, and Gordon burst into furious motion, determined to go down fighting, and to take as many of the disgusting, inhuman monsters down with him as he could.

He managed the first three, possibly a personal best for him, but the fourth one proved as problematic as he'd expected, and Gordon found himself suddenly pinned against the wall of the alley, rancid breath and yellowed fangs only scant inches from his neck.

Suddenly, Gordon heard the sound of quick footsteps behind the vampire, and then it's head was gone, blood spraying from it's severed neck, across Gordon's face, and, to his horror, in his mouth.

Almost immediately, a wave of dizziness hit him, colors swirling, sounds and smells suddenly far too strong. He could hear his own heart beat, jack rabbit quick and the pulsing tide of his own blood in his veins.

He fell to his knees, retching.

The stranger who'd beheaded the last vampire crouched beside him, grabbing the back of his head, and forcing him to face her.

Gordon looked at the dark haired girl with open hate.

"Who the hell are you?" He snarled, feeling pain erupt in his mouth along his gum line.

She smiled a dark, triumphant smile. "My name's Ruby, and today is your lucky day, hunter."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam watched his sister leave his study, shaking his head in remembered amusement of her antics. Ava's playfulness had persisted rather perversely, in spite of everything Azazel had done to try to hammer it out of her.

Her dark, satorical nature was useful to Sam, insulating her from emotions like fear and pain, and he saw no reason to try to extinguish her flame. She was deeply loyal, unhesitating in her willingness to obey any of Sam's actual orders. He trusted her implicitly, and chose to use her skills to their best advantage.

"Do you think she's really tracked down an angel?" Andy asked, laid-back as always, feet hooked on Sam's desk.

"It's possible. Her instincts for this kind of thing seldom fail. At the very least, she's found herself a project." Sam replied, going to stand in front of his map, adjusting a few of the pins, taking into account the new information his siblings had presented him with.

"I take it she still doesn't know I located your father." Andy asked with a smirk.

Sam chucked darkly. "Ava's fixation with turning John into a pair of 'righteous man-skin boots' isn't lost on me. Her hatred of my father was carefully fostered by Azazel. I'm not sure she could resist...damaging him." He chose his words carefully.

Andy watched Sam from below half lowered lids. "John is useful to us, though?" Personally, Andy wouldn't mind taking a crack at the hunter. Azazel had admitted to the siblings, pparticularly Sam, that John had discovered what had happened to them years ago. Writing them off as lost causes, he had chosen to focus instead on his mission of vengeance.

Andy would very happily encourage him to walk into traffic, if Sam would just give him the go ahead.

Sam stilled, glancing over at him. Jake was his lieutenant, Ava like his little sister. But Andy, of all his siblings, was his confidant.

Nearly as smart as Sam, with a easy going attitude that allowed Sam to tell him things he couldn't risk telling the others. He could trust Andy not to react instincively, and he often assigned Andy to more sensitive missions for that reason.

"He might be. Dean isn't a sure bet. His emotions are skewed, careening wildly. I'm not sure what he'll do just yet. It's possible we may have to make use of my father." He acknowledged, face darkening with thoughts of his brother.

"You entered his dream?" Andy asked, seeking confirmation more than actual knowledge, since he knew Sam had been considering the action.

"It wasn't what I expected." Sam answered truthfully, brow lowered in consternation.

"People never are." Andy replied, cocking his head to the side as a thought hit him.

"You had a vision, didn't you? That's why you look so tired." Andy asserted, gauging Sam's reaction.

Sam nodded silently. "That's why I had you stay behind. Jake's already on his way to Colorado. How fast do you think you can meet him there?"

Andy grinned cockily. "I met a gorgeous pilot the other day. I'm thinking she would be happy to...assist."

Sam nodded again, looking serious. "I saw Dean, in my vision. I think he's going up against a Wendigo alone, and it's not going to go well for him."

"You want us to save him?" Andy questioned.

Sam was absolutely still for a moment. Then he met Andy's eyes. "We need him." He said steadily, and Andy nodded obediently.

Sam might be his friend, but he was first and foremost his king.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean studied the girl in front of him. Her features practically screamed determination, and despite his own concerns, he couldn't find it in himself to deny her wish to be included in the hunt for the missing hikers.

Nothing would have stopped him if he had reason to believe it was Sam out there, after all.

"We've hired a guide, an expert, who's been hunting and camping in this area for decades. He knows what he's doing. He'll help us locate my brother." She was saying earnestly.

Dean couldn't repress his feelings of trepidation, however. He doubted anyone she could have possibly located could have any real idea of just what was going down in Black Water Ridge. If whatever it was had managed to take down Rufus, then it was supernatural in origin, and definitely no grizzly bear. Rufus was the hunter who'd trained Bobby, after all. Wily and tough as nails, and meaner than hell to boot.

If this thing got a jump on Rufus, Dean had better watch out for it. This wasn't the type of hunt to take on single-handed, especially with civilians in tow, but Bobby hadn't managed to locate any other hunters in the area who were free. If Dean had wanted to wait another two or three days, Annie or possibly even Caleb could have made their way to him, but if it was a Wendigo, as Bobby suspected, Rufus and Haley's brother Scott might still be alive. Wendigos had a nasty little habit of keeping there victims in cold storage, and live meat stayed fresh longer.

Dean didn't have the luxury of waiting. He'd have to do what he could with the little time he did have to prepare.

"What time are you leaving in the morning?" Dean asked Haley.

"Seven sharp." She replied. "Don't be late, or we'll leave you behind."

"Don't worry darling, I'll be there." Dean grinned sarcastically, before taking his leave.

Getting into the Impala, he headed towards the county library. He hoped to get a little more research in on the deaths in the area. Bobby was leaning towards wendigo, based on the time lines of the deaths, every twenty three years or so, but Dean didn't want to go in armed for the wrong flavor of monster if he could avoid it.

What he needed was a witness.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Max studied the hotel room in front of him. The older hunter had left the nearby bar and stumbled into his room several hours ago, and hadn't stirred since.

Wasn't that familiar.

He supposed Dean had to have gotten it from somewhere.

He could feel Lily's gentle presence in the back of his mind, watching quietly, and he hummed lowly in the acknowledgment of her company. She and Sam were headed to the southwest to investigate a lead Jake had turned up, before Sam had called Jake and sent him to meet Andy in Colorado.

He could feel Lily's gentle excitement. Sam may have located an angel, and Max was glad he was taking Lily along, even if it meant Max had to work a boring job alone.

He sat, silent and still in the darkness of his car, watching his prey.

A few more hours passed before the dark haired man awoke, packing his vehicle quickly and methodically, military training evident in every movement. He left, now walking straight and tall, as if he hadn't been drunker than Bacchus just the night before.

Max started his car, letting a few other vehicles pass before silently pulling out behind the large, black truck.

Azazel's men had been leading John Winchester on a merry chase for weeks now, and Max had drawn the short straw this week to make sure they didn't kill him, or worse.

John Winchester could not be allowed to find Azazel.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam drove smoothly, enjoying the quiet purr of the engine, the feel of easy power under his hands. They shoot through the night, a shadow among shadows on the empty mountain highway. The car was probably flashier than was warranted, but something about the sleek black design had reminded Sam of another black car, lifetimes ago, and on a whim, he had stolen it, the skills coming back to him easily, not even requiring him to use his other gifts.

Wouldn't his father be proud, Sam thought darkly.

Beside him, Lily slept lightly, and Sam assumed she was riding with Max. The pair normally worked together, but Sam had needed Lily with him. If his hunch panned out, they may have finally found a crack in the angel's defenses.

A deserter.

Lily's ability to kill with a touch made her a dangerous adversary. Sam wasn't sure if her abilities would work on an angel, but the flip side of her powers was that she was also immune to attacks using powers similiar to hers.

In short, she was singularly suited for hunting a angel.

Ava's archeri could protect her in a battle, at the very least providing her with cover if she found herself in over her head. That was why he had allowed her to go after the trickster, along with Anselm, who was frankly dangerous on a nearly atomic level. The three of them were the siblings he was most comfortable with exposing to the angels.

Bela was meeting them Sam and Lily at the casino, having acquired to holy oil Sam had sent her to find.

Lily stirred, and Sam glanced over appraisingly, determining whether or not he should pull over and bleed out the demon he had locked in the drunk. She had quieted down mostly, only making the occasional muffled yell now, which Sam and Lily ignored easily.

He didn't need to feed just yet, though, and Lily appeared comfortable, so he settled for asking "How's your brother?"

She blinked once, and responded serenely "Bored. He's run out of crossword puzzles. We went through the last one too quickly."

Sam arched an eyebrow at her. "Perhaps because they were meant to be worked on by only one person at a time?" He murmured, taking the car around another hair- pin turn as the road climbed higher into the mountains.

"Hm-mm." She answered, turning to face him fully. "Ava's hunting an angel." She said.

"So are we." Sam assured her, not forgetting the promise he made her years ago.

He could still remember the horror in her eyes the first time her powers had killed someone just by touching them. He had honestly thought she would find a way to end herself. He had spent weeks talking to her lowly, promising her that they would escape someday, would fly away from their cages, and then they'd hunt down the real monsters.

The angels.

The demons were monstrous, that was true. But they were demons, predators, cruel by nature. Expecting them to be anything else was like expecting a fish to fly. It didn't make the torture hurt any less, but their actions held a cold logic the siblings could at least understand.

The angels were supposed to be different, though, caring and kind. They weren't supposed to let little girls be poisoned by demon blood against their will. They weren't supposed to look away as that little girl was used as a weapon by the king of hell, forced to kill with her bare hands, until she was so frightened of her own abilities that she refused to touch anyone, even Sam, who they knew by that point was immune.

Her hatred of them had grown, a defensive tactic as much as Ava's irreverent attitude was.

Sam had every intention of keeping his promise. The day would come when the Angels would pay for their sins, and he was determined that Lily would be there to see the only justice she would ever get.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Andy looked the hunter over carefully. It was obvious that Sam had been the brains of the Winchester family unit all those years ago.

Dean had books and old newspaper articles splayed about the table, and frustration was clear on his face. He'd run his hands through his short hair so many times that parts of it were sticking straight up. Dark shadows decorated under his eyes, and for a moment, Andy's mind flashed back to Sam's tired face that morning, seeing the physical resemblance between the brothers for the first time.

Sighing, he picked up the newspaper article he'd encouraged the librarian to locate for him. Tucking it under his arm, he picked up the two mugs of coffee and walked over, setting them on the table with dual thuds, the sounds echoing in the hush of the library.

The hunter looked up, startled.

"Do I even want to guess?" He asked snarkily, and Andy grinned.

At least the guy had personality.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean looked up in annoyance at the guy who'd just peremptorily set the steaming mug of coffee in front of him.

Not Sam.

Therefore, not interested.

The guy settled in, hiking his legs up onto the table and crossing them lazily. Dean found himself wishing for an uptight librarian's interference for the first time in his life.

"Go away." Dean knew the guy was a demon, could smell the faint scent of sulfur. It was only the barest trace, and had Dean's survival not depended on recognizing such clues immediately, he probably would never have noticed it.

But demon or not, Dean wasn't in the mood for more games. The guy wasn't attacking him, so as far as Dean was concerned, he could get his own damn table. Dean was fed up with this bullshit game of hide and seek. He wanted answers, and he wanted his damn brother already.

"Now, is that anyway to talk to the guy who brought you coffee?" The man asked easily, and Dean studied him with narrowed eyes.

"Which one are you?" He asked suspiciously, not expecting an answer.

"My name's Andy. Sam say's you've dug yourself in pretty deep this time, so he sent me and my brother Jake to keep you from getting killed, or eaten or whatever it is you hunters do." He pulled a flask out of his pocket, taking a hit before chasing it with a drink of his coffee.

"What's that?" Dean asked, watching Andy closely as he swallowed.

"Trust me." Andy said, taking out the newspaper he had had folded under his arm, opening it and looking at the front page closely. "You don't want to know."

Dean shivered, deciding maybe he didn't. "Where's Sam?" He asked instead, since it was what he wanted to know really anyway.

"Heading west, right now, I think." Andy said idly, turning to the next page. "He caught a lead."

Stunned that he'd gotten an actual answer, Dean sat up straight so quickly he nearly knocked over his coffee.

"Is he alright? Where is he going? How do you contact him? Damn you-"

"Whoa, whoa, one question at a time, dude. Um, yes, he was fine as of this morning, like I said already, he's going west, and I normally talk to him on the phone." Andy glanced over, a calculating look on his face. "Ask what you really want to know, Dean."

Dean stared at him, mouth gone dry. He licked his lips. He opened his mouth, and closed it again uselessly.

Sighing, Andy looked back at his newspaper.

"Yes." He said, without looking back at Dean.

"Yes, what?" Dean demanded in a panic.

"Yes, everything. Yes, I'm one of the missing kids, yes, we got dragged to hell, yes, I'm a demon, and yes, so is Sam. Why did you need to hear something you already know? Drink your coffee." Andy said idly, turning to the next page calmly, as if he hadn't just destroyed Dean's entire world.

Dean closed his eyes, head spinning.

_Sam-was-a-demon-Sam-was-a-demon-Sam-was-a-demon_

"Take it or leave it, man." Andy said casually, like a surfer discussing philosophy around a beach campfire.

Dean fought down nausea, fought down the need to scream and overturn tables and cry and scream.

_Sam was a demon._

"Most of us died down there. Being a demon's small change compared to the alternative." Andy finished.

"What was the alternative?" Dean stammered, clenching and unclenching his hands, which had gone tingling and numb, trying to hear Andy's words over the roar in his ears.

_Sam was a demon._

Andy looked over at him. "Everything ends bloody, man. Ain't no such thing as a happy ending." He straightened. "Aha!"

Andy shoved the paper over to Dean, pointing at the article he had located.

"_Family attacked at campground. Five year old boy only survivor."_

"You either survive, or you don't." Andy said, looking at Dean directly for the first time.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Okay, so this chapter had so much planned for it, that I had to split it in two, with the next part most likely coming this weekend. Sorry, it just would have been a monster chapter. The next one will be pretty action packed! Enjoy, and remember to vote on my poll if you haven't. Someone mentioned Balthazar, so I added him as an option.**

**As Always, **

_**EverReader**_

_**P.s.- All four of my current projects updated this weekend. Every story is different. Two are Canon compliant, two are AU . The AU's are both pretty dark, but if you like fluff, please check out "How to Fix a Winchester". If you're a Sam girl/guy, check out Confessions of a Boy King.**_

**Trigger Warnings- Lots of cussing in this one kiddos, and some torture. Also, a red lollipop. Just FYI.**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

**All the Pretty Monsters- Chapter 9**

**"Rare and Precious Things"**

_"But how is an arch demon made?" Dean asked, horrified and determined by equal measures._

_She looked away. She bit her lip. Dean watched her, wondering what could be so bad that she was now being reluctant to talk about it after she had so willingly told him everything else._

_"Demon Blood." She said finally._

_He frowned. "All demons have demon blood."_

_"But we, the arch demons, were exposed before we were demons." She replied._

_Dean felt the floor tilt under his feet. "What did you say?" He asked, certain he had heard wrong._

_"Souls are born into living bodies, and they need living bodies to grow. The soul of a child that dies remains the soul of a child. It's nature might change, it might become a demonic child if in hell long enough, but it would always have the limitations of a child. Souls need adequate time in their living, human bodies to grow strong. That's where Arch Demons come in. Only another Arch Demon can create a new one. They pick a human, one with whatever skill or ability or personality they are looking for, and they make a deal. Then the human is exposed to Demon Blood."_

_"Exposed?" He asked, voice strained._

_Her eyes bored into his. "Fed, Dean. The human is fed Demon blood. As much as the Demon can feed them while still alive. And every encounter, every exposure is like a hit of radiation to that soul, giving it powers, changing ones it already had. Then that person dies and goes to hell, where the transformation is complete. And there you have, an Uber Demon."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Gabriel sat back, grinning as he watched the various monitors.

The Atlanta Zoo was going at full capacity, visitors coming and going all day long. Families could be seen picnicking by the lake, laughing children tormented small animals in the petting zoo. Bored teenagers on school trips used the break from class as an excuse to rough house and flirt with each other.

Gabe sat happily, waiting for the muse to strike.

Perhaps the jerk in the football jersey who had just thrown the nerdy kid's lunch into the lake. Or his girlfriend, who Gabe knew for a fact had just come back from a restroom rendezvous with the school's quarterback.

Then there was the creep walking around the goat enclosure at the Children's Zoo, even though he hadn't come in with a child of his own.

That could be either very interesting or very, very bad, and Gabriel made a mental note to watch him. Gabriel played an extra special game with pedophiles.

So many choices, so little time.

Of course, there was always Saskia.

One of the few remaining white tigers in existence in captivity that was not only female but of prime breeding age, Saskia was enjoying record breaking crowds while the Atlanta Zoo Board attempted to locate a breeding partner for her.

Unfortunately for them, Saskia was as mean as she was beautiful. She had removed half of the ear of the last male put in her enclosure, and most other zoos were unwilling to risk their own specimens.

There had been talk of artificial insemination, but someone ( Gabe wondered who that could have been) had leaked the plans to the press, leading to animal rights groups setting up protests outside the gates. One of the more well funded groups had taken legal action against the Zoo Board on the tiger's behalf, and in the meantime, Saskia was stuck holding court in Atlanta.

The bonus in that whole scenario for Gabe was the animal traffickers who kept attempting to steal her.

They would sneak in at night, with trucks and tranquilizer guns, after the zoo had closed, the goal being to procure the rare animal for whatever private collector had hired them.

Gabe had...dissuaded no less than three teams of them already, and didn't expect the flood to slow to a trickle any time soon.

Kicking his feet onto the desk he stuck a red lollipop into his mouth.

Yes, the maintenance gig at the Zoo had been a brilliant idea, if he did say so himself.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Dean leaned against the Impala, breath steaming in the early morning chill.

This was a spectacularly bad idea.

Knowingly entering the deep woods with not only three civilians but two demons. Dean had obviously had a mental breakdown the other night, and the men in white were coming for him any time now.

"Coffee?" Andy appeared suddenly, without warning, and Dean startled, cursing.

Andy stepped back, easy going smile firmly in place as he held the thermos out of the way of Dean's flailing limbs.

"I'll take that as a no." He answered his own question with a grin. Dean didn't fail to notice that his smile never really reached his eyes.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Dean snapped, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets to hide their shaking.

The small part of his brain responsible for self preservation was screaming loudly in the background, something along the lines of _**demon-death-demon-bad-run-run-run**_, but Dean hushed it forcefully.

Andy was the best link Dean had to Sammy, and he wasn't backing down now.

"Around." Andy said casually, taking another swig from the flask he pulled out of his pocket. Dean's eyes narrowed as the caught sight of a drop of something red on Andy's lip for a moment, and his skin started tightening, feeling as if it were crawling.

It looked like blood.

Andy licked his lips, and the stain was gone, and Dean did his best to dissuade himself that he'd never seen it. For his own peace of mind, he'd have to.

Dean nodded to the guy who'd come up behind Andy, looking...intense.

His eyes were wide, darting about everywhere, and he moved as if he were slightly uneasy in his own skin.

"Who's you friend?" He questioned.

Andy tossed a glance over his shoulder. "That's my brother, Jake. He's...not a morning person."

"Your brother?" Dean asked incredulously, taking in Andy's fair complexion compared to Jake's chocolate toned one.

"Yup." Andy said simply. "Just be glad Sam didn't send Anselm. He can be...intense." The way Andy paused had Dean's mind filling in the space with about a hundred other words less dignified than intense.

"I want to see Sam." Dean said, taking up the argument from last night. He railed at Andy for hours to no avail, until the demon threatened to leave and not come back. Dean was afraid to push too hard and chase off the demon who had been the most open with him of any of them so far, but he was drowning in his questions and fear, desperate to see Sam.

Andy shrugged. "Personally, I could go for a pizza right now. But I'm stuck in the woods with you. Chill, man. Sam will show when the times right."

Dean scowled. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means to shut the fuck up and listen to what Andy's telling you." It was the first time Dean had heard Jake's deep voice, and his eyes flew to the man.

"You gonna make me?" Dean asked, stepping forward, hand reaching back for his gun.

"Civilians." Andy said mildly, from where he'd taken to leaning against the Impala.

The other two turned to look at the cars that were pulling into the parking lot.

"At least we have bait." Jake said, annoyance ringing in his voice.

"They're not bait." Dean said tightly.

Andy pushed up, coming to stand between the two men. "First rule of hell, Dean. Everyone falls into three categories. Predator, prey and bait. Those three?" He nodded to where Haley, her younger brother and the man Dean assumed was their guide were standing.

"They're bait. The three of us walk away right now, they're prey. We stick around, they're bait. But they'll always be one or the other. They aren't equipped to play the game on the same level as the monster, Dean." Andy walked past them then, smiling and holding out his hand to the guide.

Dean couldn't hear what he was saying, but whatever it was, it must have been the right thing, because the man relaxed almost immediately.

Dean started forward, but Jake's grip, rock solid and seemingly unbreakable, stopped him.

"Remember what Andy just told you." He commanded, and Dean bristled at his tone. Jake continued on as is he hadn't noticed- or didn't care.

"You want to see Sam? Then you better start playing on Sam's level. Things are going to start moving quickly, hunter. This shit is going down, and Sam can't afford dead weight. You might be the righteous man, but Sam doesn't have time to rescue you every time you get in over your head."

"I hold my own!" Dean snarled furiously. "And that's the second time one of you yahoos has called me that. What the hell does that even mean?

"That's just my point, Winchester." Jake grinned ferally. "You think you're ready to play, and you don't even know the game. Get up to speed and get ready, or you'll be prey, just like them. We're at war, it's going on, all around you, all the time, for thousands of years. Sam's going to be the one who ends it. "

"What are you talking about? What war?" Dean demanded fiercely, heart pounding.

He just wanted his brother back.

"Guys." Haley called, annoyance on her features as she stood on the crest of the hill where the path into the deep woods started.

"Let's go!" Dean snapped, open hate in his voice. He was done talking to the asshole. He wanted information, not cryptic insults.

The other demon, Andy seemed more open. He'd start with him. He wouldn't rest until he'd found Sam, whatever it took.

Jake said Sam was at war.

War with who?

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam pulled smoothly into the almost entirely empty hotel next to the equally quiet looking casino.

The woman got out of the only other car in the parking lot.

"Classy place." Bela quipped, leaning down to look into the window at Sam.

Sam just smirked. "Do you have it?" He asked, a dark joy in his eyes that sent shivers down her spine.

She swallowed.

"Yes." She allowed, suddenly nervous about the deal she had made. "It wasn't cheap."

"You were provided with appropriate resources." Sam said dismissively. He reached out and took the jug from her carefully.

"Now get lost." Sam ordered dismissively.

"What?" She exclaimed, outrage on her face.

"Bela, I'm about to attack one of the oldest known creatures in existence, with the help of my little sister and a jug of religious lubricant. Show a little self preservation. I'll call you if I need you again." His voice brooked no arguments, the cold command nearly enough to dissuade her, but she had made the decision that she was all in, and that meant she wasn't just going to back down.

"How do I know you're keeping your end of the bargain?" She demanded.

His arm shot up, gripping her tight around the neck and she squeaked in surprise.

"Because I gave my word." Sam said, voice calm and absolutely deadly, and he shook her a little, like a cat with a mouse before letting her loose and she stumbled back from the car.

Strangely, instead of feeling more worried, Bela suddenly felt much better about her deal with Sam.

Both options were shit, but their was no doubt in her mind that Sam was the more dangerous opponent. Every one of her instincts screamed whenever she was near him, every nerve lit up with dangerous electricity, like she was standing next to a lightening rod.

Sam Winchester was powerful, perhaps more powerful than Lilith. But more than that, he was driven, his drive to stop Lilith was branded onto him so clearly even she could see it.

Sam Winchester would stop the demons, or end trying. There was no middle road for him.

Neither one of them had anything left to lose.

She left without another word, and Sam studied the jug he held in his hands carefully. There was no real way to test it's efficacy, which is why Lily was with him. Her abilities made her the most likely to be immune to an angel's attack (at least, of an attacking angel who was simply intent on smiting them, and not using their blade on them).

He looked over to where his sister was watching him carefully.

"Eight hundred and forty years." He said lowly.

"Thirty-six siblings." She replied back, unhesitatingly and they looked at each other.

"Let's hunt an angel." Sam grinned a dark, daredevil smile, and Lily smiled back, a manic light in her eyes that lit her features from within.

Anyone looking at the two beautiful young people in the car would think they were enjoying themselves, or perhaps even in love.

But the truth was much simpler, and much darker.

This was two people keeping a promise made in hell.

S**upernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Max watched with idle curiosity as John threw more holy water on the screaming, writhing demon. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. His own human father had been an abusive asshole, so seeing Sam's father reduced to torture and violence should come as no real shock.

John gripped the demon by her jaw, forcing her mouth open and pouring salt straight down her throat.

Max's lip curled. Perhaps he shouldn't have expected more, but he had.

"Tell me where Azazel is!" John demanded, towering over the demon, trapped inside it's fourteen year old host.

"Tell me where I can find that monster!"

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ruby slammed the glass down on the table, and Gordon winced as the sound ricochet's off the walls and drilled straight into his brain.

He studied the disgusting looking concoction.

"I don't know what kind of fool you take me for, you demon bitch, but I'm not drinking that. Who knows what it will do to me!"

She rolled her eyes impatiently. "Besides restore your somewhat dubious humanity?" She snarled.

"Let...me...think. Oh, that's right. It restores _your humanity_. Drink it."

"I'm not drinking that!" He argued, then groaned as his rage triggered his fangs to start pushing through his gums.

"Jesus..." He moaned, and she grimaced.

"Cannot help you." She replied tartly. "But I can. If you just DRINK THE POTION!" She purposefully yelled the last part, and he moaned again, covering his ears in pain.

"Why are you even helping me?" He snarled.

She sat down across the table from him, leaning forward on her elbows. "Because seven years ago you started something very important, and I want to help you finish it."

"What are you talking about?" He asked, though they both knew that Gordon knew exactly what she was talking about.

"I'm talking about hell on earth, Gordon. And how you're the only one who can stop Azazel's special army from unleashing it. You're the only one who can stop them from unleashing Lucifer. You're the righteous man."

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Dean peaked around the corner, then jerked back again as he caught sight of the Wendigo's shadow. Damn, but that was the biggest one he'd ever seen.

He had just managed to locate where it had dragged Haley and Toby, her little brother. If he was very lucky, her older brother Chirs was in the rear of the cave also.

Of course, Dean hadn't been that lucky recently.

Where the hell were Andy and Jake, his so called 'allies', he wondered?

"Get ready!" The low, whispered command came from his immediate right, and he jerked, nearly exposing his hiding spot before Andy pushed him back against the wall.

"Sloppy." Andy murmured absentmindedly, head cocked like he was listening.

"Ready for what?" Dean hissed back, gun clutched uselessly in his hands.

"For that!" Andy replied, and Dean heard the sound of scuffling. Eyes wide, he looked back around the corner and his jaw dropped.

Jake was _wrestling_ with the damn thing.

"Go! Get the kids out!" Andy said, and Dean glanced at him before taking off, sprinting to the rear cavern.

He got Haley and Toby down, and maybe he was luckier than he thought, because damned if they didn't find her older brother too.

The kid was pretty messed up though, not able to walk on his own, and Dean realized they weren't going to get anywhere fast.

Andy appeared beside him again, and this time Dean didn't even bother being startled.

"Jake's down for the moment." He said easily, as if he weren't the least bit concerned. "We should move faster."

"Easier said than done!" Dean snapped, gesturing towards the wounded kid. Andy eyed the boy appraisingly, and Dean felt his stomach clench. There was something cold and calculating in the look, as if Andy had just assessed every one of them standing there, assigned value.

'_Bait_' Dean thought to himself, remembering Jake's earlier words, and his grip tightened on Haley's brother.

Andy looked straight at him, seeming to read his mind. "Sam only said to save you." He remarked idly, and Dean bared his teeth at him.

"I'm not going anywhere without them." He insisted.

Andy sighed. Taking Chris's other shoulder, he hoisted him up easily, despite the fact that the kid had several inches on him. He handed Dean a flair gun.

"Hope you aim's as good as Sam's." He said lightly, and Dean grinned at him, a dare devil smile.

"Who the hell do you think taught him to shoot?" He retorted.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

It wasn't long before John segued into using blades dipped in holy water on the captive demon, and Max settled in for a long night.

He considered appearing and pointing out to John that the demon would have talked by now, if it knew any of the information John was demanding.

No demon weak enough for a lone hunter to catch singlehandedly would be strong enough to withstand the torture John had already put it through.

Demons weren't particularly loyal, not the minor ones anyway. This one would have already sold out Azazel if she could.

But at least it kept John occupied, and Max pulled out his crossword, wishing Lily were there to do it with him.

It was two hours later when the demon finally gibbered something of interest to John and Max, who perked up from where he had hidden in the shadows of the rafters.

"I don't know where Azazel is, but I know who he's hunting!" It laughed a little, the pain dancing along it's nerve endings making it slightly manic.

"The Boy King escaped, and Azazel is furious. Untold rewards for the demon that returns Azazel's toys to him..." It babbled on, sometime switching between Latin, and Enor'kaet, the bastardized version of Enochian particular to hell, often simply referred to as Hellspeak.

John was having trouble following the demon's ramblings, but he paused when he managed to translate the Latin phrase "Boy King".

"Who is he hunting?" Winchester demanded, his voice burning with a cold that reminded Max of

Hell, and he froze where he sat, every nerve tingling as he waited for the demon to reply.

"The Seven have escaped." It replied, laughing. "The King of Hell hunts the Boy Prodigy. Sam Winchester is free, and the King of Hell wants him back."

Well, Max thought sourly, things just got a little more interesting.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Holy cow, this is the longest chapter freaking ever and I love every minute of it. So much is happening, and I still didn't manage to fit in quite everything, so next chapter with be busy too!**

**Please review, because I am juggling a lot of plot lines with this story, and I live in fear of dropping one, so reassure me, okay? Besides which, if this awesomely long chapter didn't earn a review or ten, I may as well hang up my hat and take up knitting. My fingers might hurt less!**

**Let's see...hmm. "How to Fix a Winchester" updated on Friday, so you might pop over and catch chapter three, if you've been following. I hoping for some feedback before I move to chapter four of that project. Hopefully, "Prisoner of War" will update sometime on Sunday. And please check out my profile and vote for the poll for this story!**

**As Always, **

_**EverReader**_

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"_That's what happened to you? To all of you?" Dean asked, voice breaking with the sheer horror of what she was saying. "That's what they did to Sammy?"_

_The thought of his gentle brother force-fed Demon Blood while trapped in Hell made Dean struggle with nausea for a moment._

"_That's what they did to all of us, Dean. All forty-three of us." She looked at him steadily, and he had trouble meeting her eyes. _

"_Between the demon blood and hells hospitality, though, only seven of us made it out. I lost thirty six brothers and sisters in the pit. One by one, they went to sleep and didn't wake up. Just...gone, like they had never existed, like they didn't have hopes and fears and souls. Like they were nothing. Hell un-wrote them, Dean, but one day, I'll watch Sam carve their names into Azazel's skin."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava leaned against the building, staring at the patrons streaming in and out of the gates of the zoo speculatively.

"And you're sure?" Sam asked from the other end of the line.

She grinned darkly. "Absolutely. The last guy they found was convinced he was a chicken. The one before that had grown a third eye. It's a trickster."

"But is it the one you want?" Sam pressed.

She pursed her lips in thought. "He seems too powerful for a normal trickster. He's throwing mojo around like dollar bills at a strip club. That screams angel to me."

There was a pause on the line while Sam digested her words. "Other than Metatron, there are only two other angels that Azazel was aware of that were unaccounted for. And his notes indicated that he thought the angel Adrielle had ripped out her own grace in order to take human form. That just leaves Gabriel. He's an arch-angel, Ava. Are you sure you want to do this? He could smite you with one hand behind his back."

She smiled. "Absolutely. I wanna see wings, Sam. And we need info. Our plan should work."

"Keep Anselm close, but out of sight. Tell him to tone it all the way down, if he can. If he can come across as mortal unless he needs to, he'll be more effective protection. According to the lore, Angels see souls, so the moment he sees Anselm, he'll know what he is. If the trickster is just sensing him, he might not realize Anselm's true nature." Sam ordered, reservation clear in his voice.

Ava's appreciation for her king soared. This needed to be done and Sam knew it, and he was trusting her to do it. Furthermore, he understood the dangers involved, and made it completely her choice. And he let her know that he wasn't sending her in without seeing to her safety.

Sam always thought about the family.

"Don't worry. The trickster isn't going to know what hit him." She promised, dark humor threading her voice.

She hung up, staring at the entrance a little longer, before sauntering away to do a little shopping before it got dark.

Cat burglars needed killer boots, after all.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam snapped the phone shut, staring out the window of the hotel room. They had stayed at the original one only long enough to ascertain that the angel was really inside.

They'd left before he'd noticed them and took a room across town. They wanted to catch him by surprise, and Sam had wanted to touch base with everyone before he and Lily moved on the scribe.

"Sam." Lily's voice was low, lit with suppressed excitement, and he couldn't help but smile at her.

"Yes." He said simply. He picked up the jug of holy oil and they moved to the door.

"You remember what to do?" He asked, unnecessarily, but she answered obediently anyway, used to his ways.

"Kill his assistant. Turn on the no vacancy sign, lock the office. Kill any other guests. Salt and secure and lay the angel wards." She said, almost vibrating with excitement.

"Good. I'll get the angel squared away, then text you to come up. Then we'll get started. Just make sure we won't have any interference."

"All hail the king." She said happily.

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Gordon leaned closer to the mirror, pulling up his lips and prodding his gums experimentally.

"You're sure I'm one hundred percent human?" He tossed over his should at the bored demon leaning against the door frame to the bathroom.

"As human as you ever were." She answered with a smirk.

"And you did this why, again?" He asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Because, you're the righteous man, Gordon. That's why you feel such a drive to kill the monsters, that's why you abhor them so much. It's a natural response to being a tool of God."

He looked at her disbelievingly. "And why is a demon helping the other team?" He demanded.

She looked at him angrily. "Because I'm not like the other demons. I still remember being human, I don't want Lucifer to rise anymore than you do. Best case scenario for me, hell on earth, which I don't particularly want, since hell pretty much sucks. Worst case scenario, Lucifer turns on the Demons, which would suck even more."

Gordon frowned. "Why would he turn on Demons? Didn't he create the Demon race?"

"As a tool. Because we were useful." She said bitterly. "Once we're no longer useful, he'll turn on us like he did the Angels."

"So, this is to save your own skin, after all?" He said triumphantly.

"Does it matter?" She shot back. "Because I'm pretty sure what actually matters is that the Seven escaped, and are trying to open the hell gate and free Lilith. They free Lilith, Lilith frees big daddy, and the whole world is toast."

"Who are the Seven?" He asked, intrigues despite himself.

She smiled. "I'm so glad you asked. Remember Mark Gaines?"

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava grinned in savage delight as she walked down the row of tanks in the reptile house. With a tap of a fingernail against each tank, the glass shattered, raining down like confetti as the snakes inside reacted, writhing and hissing angrily.

"Free...slither away" She sang, halfway to herself, as she sauntered out the door and over to the Aviary.

The cages their quickly met the same fate, feathers filling the air. Ava took a moment to stroke the silk-soft feathers of a peregrine falcon before throwing her arm up, relishing the dig of the raptor's claws as it launched itself skyward.

"Fly, fly away." She sang again, and then she was off to the monkey house. The Elephant and Rhinoceros enclosures took a little more work, but she was nothing if not persistent.

The goats bolted from the Children's zoo as if running for their lives, and Ava didn't blame them a bit.

The zoo, empty of people at this hour, was a chaotic mass of fur and feathers and scales as animals from every continent ran pell-mell down the walkways, frogs hopping past gazelle, and a panda was sitting contentedly in the middle of the outdoor food court, chewing on what looked like a package of straws.

Ava looked around in dissatisfaction, tapping her finger against her lips. Something was missing...

Spying a sign in the distance, she stalked forward until she was standing right in front of the rugged looking gate.

From inside, she could hear growling and snarling.

"Big Cat Enclosures" the sign read, and her lips curled wickedly.

That was promising.

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Dean watched in disbelief as Andy...did something to Haley and her brothers. He couldn't quite tell what, but he could feel it. One moment, they were all rambling on about the Wendigo, eyes wide and frightened.

Then Andy walked up, calm as you please, and started talking about how crazy the gigantic grizzly bear was, and within moments, all their heads were nodded like bobble-heads.

By the time the police and the ambulance arrived, it was Toby, the youngest brother, who was telling the story about the grizzly attack, arms flung wide as he earnestly described the size of the imaginary animal, and the most frightening thing about it was, Dean was positive that Toby wasn't just saying it.

Toby believed it.

Andy walked over, whistling, hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy pants, hair carelessly falling into his eyes.

"What the hell did you do to them?" Dean demanded, moving forward and grabbing the demon by his shirt. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jake start forward threateningly, but Andy held up a hand, and Jake stilled, poised for action if he deemed necessary.

"What I was ordered to do." Andy said easily. "I cleaned up the mess. They saw Jake wrestle that thing to the ground. They couldn't be allowed to relay that information. It was that or kill them. We can't have witnesses."

"So you what...just erased their memories?" Dean yelled, shaking Andy a little for good measure. "You ever think about just asking them, Einstein? We saved their lives, they probably would have helped us just for that, you know."

Andy looked at him pityingly. "The world doesn't work that way, Dean. You should know that. And even if they turned out to be the stand-up people you think they are, our enemies aren't. And they can't relay information they don't remember."

"What do you mean, enemies?" Dean said. "I'm ready for some goddam answers or you and your brother can kick rocks, as far as I'm concerned. This is bullshit."

Jake twitched, as if meaning to move forward again, and Andy looked at him authoritatively. "Relax, Jake. This is my gig. You took care of the problem. We'll meet up later."

Jake's jaw clenched, but he nodded unhappily. Turning to Dean, he snarled "Lay hands on one of my family again, and you'll be wearing your righteous guts for garters, Winchester."

Dean snarled back. "Likewise, hellspawn." He spit out venomously.

Andy sighed, like a parent tired of dealing with two misbehaving children. He clapped his hands together. "Okay. Now that the pleasantries are over, Dean, lets go talk. You have to eat every couple of hours, or something? Right? Let's eat, and I'll answer what I can."

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Anselm approached his sister, Dante a silent shadow gliding at his side.

"Sam said no." He said laconically, studying her with one satiric brow lifted in amusement.

Ava had opened every cage in the big cat enclosure, and Anselm figured the Atlanta police department were in for an interesting few days, as lions, cheetahs, panthers and leopards wrecked merry havoc on the Georgian suburbs.

Saskia had not left yet, however, and Ava had draped herself across the cat longways, a delighted smile breaking across her face every time the tiger inhaled, the movement expanding the animal's ribcage, literally lifted the petite girl bodily up and down with every breath.

Anselm was reminded of that movie he had seen centuries ago, as a human child, about the dinosaurs, where the man had done much the same thing with the triceratops.

"I want one." Ava said simply, snuggling her face into the black and white striped fur.

"I'll get you a kitten." He offered sarcastically, and she stuck out her tongue at him.

"I want this one." She rephrased, and Anselm rolled his eyes.

"She won't fit in your car." He tried again, wondering idly just how much trouble he would get in if his sister came home with a tiger.

"I'll steal a bigger car." She said carelessly. Suddenly, her eyes shot to Anselm, widening just a fraction, and like that, he disappeared into the night.

"Where did your friend go?" The amused voice called out, and she hugged the tiger around the chest once more with regret.

Time to work.

She sat up, using the tiger's chest as a bench, still moving up and down with the cat's contented breathing.

"He's not a cat person." She answered, eyes tracking the blonde man who sauntered into view. Shorter than she expected, looking at him was a little like looking into the sun. The closer he got, the warmer her skin felt, like his presence was giving her a sunburn.

She smiled ferally.

He smiled back mischievously, tilting his head curiously.

"You've made a pretty mess of my zoo." He said conversationally, walking in a wide circle around her.

Ava resisted the urge to follow him with her eyes, knowing that this entire plan depended on how well she played her part.

"Wild things don't belong in cages." She said meaningfully, and she felt him still behind her for a moment before he resumed his pacing.

"Hmmm, be that as it may, you've ruined my fun, demon. You've heard of me, I've assume?" He said, chest inflating as he gave her his signature trickster smile.

She looked at him with an unimpressed face. "I know you're not Loki."

She said it simply, standing in a smooth movement, and now they circled each other, playfulness dancing teasingly with danger, the air alive with the electricity they generated, an arch angel and an arch demon standing so close together, like clashing warm and cold fronts coming together to create the perfect storm.

He stilled, and she tilted her head at him. "I came here to see Saskia. But, in answer to your other question..." She sauntered forward, seeming completely unafraid. "I know who you a-r-e...arch angel." She said softly, and he sprang at her, a glinting silver blade suddenly in his hand, and she danced backwards, out of the path of his blade, laughing.

A flick of her wrist, and suddenly a dark blade of her own was in her hand, the metal a dark hue that seemed to suck the light in instead of reflecting it.

"Ownership. The mark of a high demon. Impressive." The man remarked casually as they circled each other again, referring to her ability to call her blade into her hand with only her own force of will. The talent was called ownership, meaning that once a demon established a strong rapport with an object, normally a weapon, it was theirs always, simply waiting to be called into existence, ready for use, much the same way angels carried their own blades.

Only particularly strong demons had the skill, among even the seven, only Sam and Ava had grasped the ability so far, though the others would in time most likely.

Her grin widened. "You might not have heard of me. I'm Ava, and apparently, I'm the mother-fucking princess." Her voice was gleeful, and Gabe was suddenly sure that she was the first demon he had ever met that was entirely unafraid of him.

"Ava." He said the word slowly, tasting it, then looked at her searchingly. Ava knew he wasn't looking at her body, but her soul, at the twists and smudges and scars and brands that surviving hell had left her with.

He pulled back a little in surprise, and she knew that he now knew exactly what she really was.

"Azazel really did it." He murmured with a grimace, and she smiled without amusement.

"Azazel is not who you have to worry about, Herald. My king walks the earth, and now everything changes." She sprung forward then, and it was his turn to twist away, the two of them beautiful, deadly dancers, their music the snarling and squawking of the freed animals as they made their escape into the night.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam idly flipped through one book, then put it down, picking up another in it's place.

He heard the man (the angel) scream again, and he grinned in dark satisfaction.

The new wards he had designed himself worked perfectly, instead of banishing angels, as the ones outside the room did, these weakened their captive, rendering him practically human. Combined with the ring of flaming holy fire (with bothered the arch demons not at, thank you very much, they were from Hell, after all), and the angelic scribe was well and truly fucked.

Lily stood beside him, humming contentedly as she laid her hands on the screaming man once again.

Her powers weren't quite enough to kill the angel (yet, anyway, but wasn't this promising), but from the sounds, the pain she was causing him must have been excruciating.

"Metatron, right?" Sam asked, strolling over casually and not waiting for an answer (which was just as well, as he was screaming again anyway).

He waited until Lily lifted her hands up again before continuing. "You like stories, right? Books, novels, fiction, biographies. Just look at this room, hundreds upon hundreds of stories."

His eyes flicked to Lily's and she grinned again, laying a hand on the inside of the Angel's thigh, and Sam winced in mock sympathy.

They knew the many nuances of torture and pain very intimately, after all.

"Would you like me to tell you a story, scribe?' Sam asked darkly, crossing the flames without even a pause and picking up the Angel's blade where it lay on the floor, gleaming duly in the firelight.

"A story about a bored, careless, capricious god, and his naughty, naughty children, called the Angels. And one day, the two oldest angels got into a argument, and suddenly everybody had a side and an agenda, and then there was a war, for thousands and thousands of years, as each side tried to collect as many human souls as they could. But then one day, one side, let's just call them the Dark-side for clarity's sake, decided to cheat. And they stole souls before they were supposed too.

Children's souls. Forty-three of them, in fact, and took them back to their home base, where things were very...unpleasant for the children. And the other team, who was supposed to make sure things like that weren't supposed to happened, looked the other way, because they thought the Dark-side was falling into a trap of their own making. So instead of saving the children, they ignored their prayers and pain. And so most, almost all, in fact, of the children died. But then one day, seven of them escaped back home. And do you know what happened then?" Sam asked, nodding again at Lily.

She laid both hands on the Angel this time, and his screams bounced off the walls, melted into Enochian as he no doubt cursed them in his milk tongue.

"That." Sam answered matter-of-factly. "That is what happens to bad little angels who break the rules and help create monsters. Because, Angel, we aren't the monsters. You are." He leaned forward, whispering the words into the angels bleeding ear, "We're the thing that monsters fear, Seraph."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Max followed impassively as John drove past the city limits sign of his old home town, tamping down his own unease so it didn't reach out, creeping across Lily's consciousness at a wrong moment and endanger her.

His eyes locked on the man as he climbed the steps to the old fashioned, white house.

The sign out front read "Missouri Mosely-Psychic".

Sighing, he flipped out his phone to call Sam, knowing nothing would keep Lily from picking up on this and deciding this was the lesser evil.

As if there was such a thing as lesser evils in their lives.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam snapped the phone shut, a dangerous cloud storming across his face, and Lily glanced up as the temperature in the room plummeted, her breath suddenly coming out in a steaming cloud in front of her face.

"Sam?" She questioned, eyes wide and focused solely on her king, paying little heed to the bleeding man in front of her.

"Sorry, Lily. But we have the blade, and now we know the oil works, as well as the sigils. But Max just called." He said, irritation warring with apology in his voice.

Her eyebrows lifted as her eyes went blank, and Sam knew right away she had mentally flown away to their brother, and he moved closer in order to cover her in case the battered angel tried something.

He only slumped there, though, light and blood trickling from his various cuts.

A moment later, her face came alive again as her eyes flew back to Sam. "Sam?" She questioned, not allowing her alarm to show, but Sam saw it anyway.

"We knew it would happen sooner or later." He forced his voice to be pleasant and even, unwilling to ruin the moment Lily had been waiting on for nearly a century. The siblings would take their cues from him, some like Ava and Jake itching for blood, and others, like Lily, with more concern.

His father was a dangerous adversary, even Azazel hadn't managed to do more the distract him. His status as the righteous man made him important, and it was hard to stop an enemy you couldn't kill.

And if John ever learned that little fact, they were all in a world of trouble.

"We do need to move, though. I'm calling everyone in for a meeting. Finish up." She nodded once, a triumphant smile on her face. Raising her arm, she readied herself to plunge it into the Angel's chest.

"Wait. Wait..." He wheezed, and Sam held his hand up, momentarily stilling his sister's hand. She rolled her eyes but complied. Something in the angel's voice alerted Sam, lighting up his instincts, and he zeroed in on the bloody Angel's face. Taking it in his hands, he studied it.

"Talk quickly." He murmured, and Metatron did, the words spilling from his lips in a torrent.

"I can help you, I can, you know. I can give you what you really want." He mumbled, and Sam's gaze sharpened.

"And just what is that?" Sam queried, watching the captive like a cat watches a mouse.

"The angels. Not just me. All of them. Every last one. Raining from the sky like shooting stars." Metatron said, desperation tinging his voice.

"And just why would you turn on your own?" Sam asked, pushing down his scorn at the Angel's betrayal of his own.

"They've hunted me for centuries, chased me out of heaven for nothing more than being the unlucky scribe picked by god to take some notes. I'm just like you, I'm a victim." The Angel plead, eyes darting between the two demons.

"How?" Sam demanded.

"I know things. There are tablets, a demon tablet, and an angel tablet. Notes, taken by my own hand, directly from god. They talk about the weaknesses of both species. And..." He swallowed, looking at Sam calculatingly. "There's more. I've been working on a spell..."

"What kind of spell?" Sam asked, as Lily trailed the blade down Metatron's face, light oozing in a thin line from the cut.

"A spell to cast the angels from heaven. Every last one of them. Practically human, with no guidance, and little in the way of powers." Metatron finished, swallowing hard.

"It'd be open season of angels..." Lily whispered, eyes far away. Sam glanced at her, then back at his prisoner.

"Tell me." He ordered.

"Let me go, first." Metatron countered.

Sam nodded at Lily, who raised her arm again.

"Wait! Wait, alright, alright. You need things, first, three things." Metatron gasped.

"I'm listening." Sam replied.

"An Angel's grace, the heart of a nephilim, and the bow of a cupid." The angel listed, and Sam's eyes met Lily's in dark amusement.

Metatron's eyes widened in horror as he realized his mistake.

"The grace of an angel..." Sam mused out loud, glancing at his sister and nodding.

Metatron screamed from behind him again, as he whipped open his phone and dialed Jake.

If the seven were going to have a party, they would need to do some shopping first.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Gordon stared at Ruby incredulously. "And now these seven super-demons are running around loose, and you expect me to stop them? Why haven't you told everyone, the entire hunting community. We need every able bodied hunter out looking for them. They have to be destroyed."

"Do you really thinK Winchester and Singer and Caleb and Pastor Jim will go for that? They'll insist on trying to save them, and that will be all these demons need. You've never met demons like this, Gordon. They're not like me, like your normal prey. Their powers are extraordinary. And if they know you're hunting them, they'll strike you down first. Your only chance is to catch them unaware, and you can't do that if every hunter passing through the roadhouse is babbling about you being the damn righteous man." Ruby said sarcastically.

"What the hell does righteous man even mean?" Gordon demanded.

She grinned. "It means you are the only thing standing between Lilith and Lucifer's cage being flung wide open, Gordon. It means you have the power to stop the devil."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean settled across the booth from Andy, ignoring the incongruousness of sitting in a diner with a demon.

"Start at the beginning." He ordered, and Andy sighed. The waitress came over with two coffees and Andy handed one to Dean.

Dean frowned. "What the hell is it with coffee, anyway? You're always handing me a freaking coffee."

Andy paused, as if struck unprepared for Dean's question. "Huh." He said, seeming surprised. "I guess I never thought about it. Sam likes coffee, so I just assumed you were a caffeine junkie too."

Dean reared back, as shocked by the casual mention of Sam than if Andy had just reached over and slapped him. Forcing himself to breath deeply, he shook off the feeling of unreality.

"Where is my brother?" He demanded, and Andy sighed, looking out the window.

"What did Jake tell you?" He asked, looking back over at Dean.

Dean frowned. "He said you were at war. War with who?"

Andy nodded. "We're special, my brothers and sisters. That's why the demon's took us. They wanted to turn us into weapons. But we got out, and now, unless we want to go back, we have to fight. We aren't safe until the ones who want to hurt us are destroyed. That's why you have to be careful. Sam has powerful enemies, and they aren't above using you to get to him."

"What enemies?" Dean cried, "And what do you mean, special? What about Sam? Is he special too?"

Andy nodded solemnly. "Sam is the most special of all. But more than that, he is our leader."

"I don't understand any of this!" Dean said in frustration, the enormity of the entire situation making his head pound.

"I can't tell you too much more. But the long and short of it is, most of us died in hell. And you're right, the ones who came back, well, let's just say we've been upgraded. Sam too. You need to think, really hard, if you can handle this. Otherwise, just keep your head down, and when we can, we'll try to keep you out of the line of fire as a favor to Sam. We owe him that." Andy said vaguely, and Dean's gaze sharpened.

"Owe him for what?" He asked, just as Jake came striding into the diner, nearly knocking over the waitress.

He said something to Andy in the harsh, guttural language that Dean vaguely recognized as Hellspeak.

Andy's eyebrows came together, and he stood quickly.

"I'll let Anselm know. He'll bring Ava, kicking and screaming if he has to." He looked to Dean. "Sorry, Dean, but duty calls. Things are moving quickly now."

The two demons started out of the restaurant, and Dean trailed after angrily. "Where the hell are you going?" He cried.

Andy looked back at Dean, and Dean watched as he chose his words carefully. Jake was frowning, and Dean got the impression that he didn't think Andy should say anything.

"Your father has found out about us. He's dangerous to us. He won't think twice about killing us, and Sam's worried he'll...harm us. He's ordered us all to safety."

Dean's stomach dropped at his words. "You found Dad? Is he alright?" He was glad his voice didn't break.

Andy studied him. "More so than we will be if he finds us, Dean. Why do you think Sam has stayed away? He doesn't know if your his brother, or John's son."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava laughed in delight as she flipped backwards, landing as lightly as a cat on her feet.

This was fun.

Neither had managed to land so much as a cut on the other yet, though honestly, Ava wasn't trying. She wondered whether or not the angel was.

The food court was destroyed though, nothing more than smoking rubble.

Oh well. They were overpriced anyway.

She ducked as the angel swung again and twirled, hair whipping out around her head, a dark, ironic halo.

"Too slow, angel." She said teasingly, and she'd swear he was enjoying it too.

"Ava!" The voice echoed across the courtyard stridently, and she rolled her eyes, holding out one hand in a 'stop' motion, and Gabe was so surprised he actually did, staring at her in wide eyed bemusement and she turned back to the man who strode towards them, dog still at his side.

"I'm working." She said, annoyance in her voice, and Gabe couldn't help it, he laughed at her sheer audacity.

"Boss is on the phone." Came the terse reply, and Gabe's brows rose as the man tossed a phone to her and she caught it effortlessly in the hand not holding her blade. Holding the open phone to her chest, she looked at the angel in what appeared to be an apology, though Gabe was unsure if a creature like Ava was capable of such a thing.

"Do you mind?" She asked, with a smirk, and Gabe gestured widely, ever the gentleman.

"By all means." He said in sarcastic amusement, and to his delight, she did just that.

"I want a tiger." Were the first words out of her mouth, and Gabe actually laughed out loud.

This one was whiskey in a teacup, alright.

"What?!" Her voice rose, and anger crossed her features. "Oh, we're on our way, don't worry." She snapped the phone shut hard enough to break it, dropping the pieces carelessly to the ground and grinding them with the heel of her boot until they were nothing but dust.

She glanced at her companion. "We're moving." She said shortly, and the fury in her voice lit her features like firelight.

She glanced back at Gabe, "Another time, Angel." She turned on her heel and started walking away, leaving a flabbergasted arch-angel standing in her wake.

With a flash, he was standing in front of her, dagger only a half inch from her throat. She lifted an unamused eyebrow at him. "Can I help you, cherub?" She asked snidely, and his eyes narrowed.

"You show up, wreck my zoo, threaten to expose my very well kept secret, try to kill me and now you're going to walk away?" This time, it was Gabe's voice that was laced with irritation.

She rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself, Gabriel. It is Gabriel, right?" She asked, hands gesturing in frustration.

"I prefer Gabe. Or Loki." He replied.

She lifted a brow. "Whatever. Like I said earlier, tree-topper, I was here for the tiger. Anselm got a dog, and it only seemed fair that I get a cat."

"So, you just happened to show up here?" Gabe demanded disbelieving, and she scoffed.

"Of course not. We're knew you were here. You're not exactly subtle, you know, for someone in hiding. But it was never about killing you." She tried to move around the blade, and Gabe adjusted his stance, lightening fast, and she stopped again, eyes flaring at him.

"Just catch up later, princess!" Anselm called, and flashed away, and she glared at Gabe.

"Are you happy now?" She asked sarcastically.

"Why aren't you trying to kill me?" Gabe demanded.

'Look, Gabe" She said, "According to my king, you opted out of all the apocalypse games right after they nailed up the carpenter's kid. That means you have nothing do with us. I just wanted to play with the kitty, okay?"

"Who's your king?" Gabe demanded.

"His name's Sam. And I need to go. Anselm's not exactly patient, and if he steals the car I stole fair and square, I'm going to have to kick his ass, and then you will be responsible for the small city that will probably be taken out in the process."

"Your king, is named...Sam?" Gabe asked, looking at her as if she were crazy.

"Yes." She said shortly. "And he sent me out here to determine whether you were useful to us, or a potential threat."

"And since you're not still trying to kill me, you think I'm going to be your ally?" The angel asked in disbelief.

"No." she answered snidely. "I've determined you are nether useful nor do you pose a threat."

"I beg your pardon?" Gabe asked dangerously.

"You-are-_benign_." She enunciated each word carefully, and Gabe's eye twitched.

"I could smite your mouthy-ass with two fingers, you do realize that, don't you?" He questioned.

"Blah, blah." She answered carelessly. "If you were going to, you would have already. And if you change your mind, there's nothing I can do about it anyway." She stated.

"Yet, you're classifying me as benign?" Gabe asked, quite frankly insulted.

She looked straight at him. "Power doesn't make the adversary. Agenda does. And you don't have one, as far as we are concerned anyway. Unlimited power, all the freedom in the world, and you're here at the zoo. You pose no risk to my family."

He lowered his blade. "What the hell are you up too?" He asked suspiciously.

She smiled. "Watch and see, Angel. Stay out of our way, and we'll stay out of yours. My king has no issue with you, and you've amply demonstrated that you want no part of the politics. If I were you, I'd just sit back and enjoy the show."

"What show?" He called, curiosity piqued in a way it hadn't been in more than a millennium.

"Like I said." She called out, voice dark with promise and clarion clear. "The Apocalypse Games. And there's a whole new team on the field."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Azazel stood, cool breeze blowing pleasantly across his face.

The train tracks at his feet hindered his progress, but that mattered little.

They had located the Hell Gate. Now all they needed was the colt.

And a fool.

His phone rang just then.

He answered with a congenial smile.

"Ruby, my darling girl! How have you been? How is our little project coming along?"


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'm so sorry this is two days late! My best friend is moving, and I've been helping her after work every night, and my son just started third grade, so this week has been crazy. Okay, next chapter of All The Pretty Monsters. I am not one-hundred percent happy with the Sam/Dean interaction, but I am not sure there are words dramatic enough to convey how emotional that moment would have been. It is literally what's been holding the story up, so I decided to just push through. If something comes to me that is better, I will rewrite that section and notify you guys, but I felt like the story would stall if I didn't simply get it on paper. Also, remember, it's a dream (and the great thing about dreams is that the most ludicrous, insane things can almost seem mundane, so I am taking full advantage of that, sorry if Dean seems OOC, but this chapter was really hard), so they will actually meet for the first time twice! I promise the first in person meeting will be very dramatic. **

**Reviews are love, because this chapter is really almost upsetting me.**

**As Always, **

_**EverReader**_

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter 11**

"**The Heart of the Matter"**

_Dean swallowed, still beyond words, but Ava continued relentlessly. _

"_One month topside, Dean, that's the equivalent of ten years in hell. That's how long they had to work on us down there. At first, it was just torture. They strap you on a rack, and they carve you up. They cut you open, and everything you ever were bleeds out onto the floor. When they pull you off and toss you into your cell, you pray, to God, to Allah, to Lucifer. You don't care if only it would stop. But then you wake up, the next day, all bright and shiny and new, a blank canvas to be painted red all over again."_

_She paused, eyes far away. _

"_You scream and you beg, until they cut out your tongue and you choke on your own blood. Sometimes they wear their own faces, but sometimes they look like someone else. Imagine your mother, your father, your brother, hands covered in your blood, Dean. Over and over again, until you don't remember what the wind feels like, or the sun and the rain. You don't remember music, or Christmas, or safety. So, eventually, some of us stopped waking up the next day. They weren't strong enough. They're a part of that place now, Dean. They were kids, and the demons took them away, and now they can never come back. That's hell."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

The psychic stared at the man in front of her with disgust.

"I told you to leave and never come back seven years ago, John Winchester, and I sure as hell meant it."

John strode forward, eyes burning with intensity. "Is it true, Missouri, has Sam returned? How is that possible? Is he a demon?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, John, and if I did, I wouldn't tell you. I warned you when he was just a baby that he was special, and that they were after him, but you took him with you anyway. You had to know you couldn't keep him safe, keep him hidden if you dragged him along on some crusade to avenge Mary. Mary was gone, John, and she entrusted her boys' safekeeping to you."

John shook his head adamantly. "I prepared Sam, trained him as best I could. He just wasn't strong enough to fight the demons off."

She reached out, lightning quick and slapped the startled man. "You can lie to yourself, John Winchester, but you can't lie to me. That boy was bait. Any of the other hunters, his brother, you never went to anyone to help you protect him. You never warned him. You used your child as bait, pure and simple."

He scowled. "He was tainted, Missouri. You said it yourself, there was something dark inside him."

She scowled back, eyes lit with a passion of their own. "So you left your child in hell. And all the other children too. I don't know what you could have done, John, but even you think your actions were wrong, that's why you never told Dean where his brother was."

"None of that matters now!" He shouted at her. "He's back, Missouri, and I have to know where he is, how to stop him. I won't let my son be used by that yellowed-eyed hell spawn."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have abandoned him when the demon stole him. I've told you John, I don't know where he is, or what he's planning. I'm not even sure entirely what he is, and neither are the spirits. But they're very clear on what he wants."

"What?" John demanded.

She looked at him steadily. "What you taught him, John. He wants revenge."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam studied his siblings, gauging their moods. From Lily he could sense trepidation, echoed faintly in Max, though Max was far more stoic.

Andy was troubled, while Anselm was completely impassive, Dante sitting watchfully at his side.

Jake was restless, hands and feet moving continually, though Sam wasn't one hundred percent sure whether that was anxiety and unease, or just Jake being stuck topside.

Ava, of course, was a ball of furious, frantic motion, her smoldering rage actually raising the temperature of the room a few degrees, canceling the cold still emanating from Sam.

Sam himself was an uncomfortable mix of emotions, most of which were foreign to him.

"Take it from the top." He ordered, and they complied.

"He went to see the psychic, Missouri Mosely, in your hometown." Max said.

Andy tilted his head thoughtfully. "She's the one Azazel mentioned. He said she told your father about us, about what happened to us."

"And he did nothing!" Ava fumed. "How dare they call him righteous!"

"Ava." Sam said it was quiet, stern authority and she quieted obediently, but he knew she wasn't finished.

One of Azazel's favorite games had been to torment Ava with the knowledge that someone knew what had happened to them, and yet did nothing. For some reason, this struck a cord in her, more than the others, and Azazel had not been one to pass on exploiting a weakness.

"So what do we do about him?" Jake asked, all business as usual.

"Let Ava kill him?" Anselm suggested mildly. "We know Dean is also righteous, and much more likely to play ball with us anyway. He's a threat to us. Eliminate him."

"We can't." Lily argued quietly, Max nodding and Sam guessed she was speaking his thoughts for him.

"Unless Metatron revealed the first seal and what it has to do with a righteous man, we can't risk him. John and Dean are the only two we know of, and hunting is a dangerous business. We can't kill one carelessly and find out later Dean can't complete the task. We know a righteous man will be needed to cure Lilith, and she can't even leave until the first seal is broken."

Sam nodded. "Lily and Max are right. We know we need a righteous man for two separate tasks. It may very well turn out that the same righteous man can complete both tasks, but they are too rare a resource to waste."

"And if he comes after us?" Ava asked coldly. Sam studied her.

"If he comes after any of you directly, end him. Fast and brutal. No holds barred. We won't hunt him down, but neither will he hunt us. It shouldn't come to that. We're faster, smarter, better armed and more knowledgeable. We've been following him for weeks. It's trickier now, but nothing we weren't prepared for. And if he tries to harm us and fails, then Dean is more likely to view us favorably. We've assisted him several times now."

"It's you he wants, Sam. Not any of us." Andy said, watching Sam carefully.

"Yes, but most of you have helped him now. The Dean I remember would have trouble ignoring that. We've never pretended to be good guys, but it's going to tricky to convince Dean that neither is my father. I want him to meet you, see you. Put faces to the names he's read. When he's ready, I'll go to him."

Sam turned to Ava. "Report."

Swallowing down her anger, she replied "He confirmed, he is, in fact the Arch Angel Gabriel."

The others digested this in silence for a moment, Sam staring at his map. "And the plan?' he said finally.

"Worked perfectly." She answered. "He's bored, and lonely. Now he's interested. No idea where he will come down, but he will eventually engage. He's a hell of a fighter, too. Neither one of us were really trying, but he was good. Almost too good. The other arch angels will be dangerous enemies."

"Then you'll need this." Sam replied, throwing Metatron's angel blade at her.

She caught it neatly, eyes lighting up. "This should be Lily's, though." She said, a troubled look coming over her face.

Lily smiled. "That's the best part. I'm immune. And maybe I can't kill one yet, but I can hurt them, badly. You use it, you're the one playing cat and mouse with the messenger of the lord."

"What about Dean?" Jake asked, looking troubled. "I'm not sure how good he actually is."

Ava nodded, but Andy looked thoughtful.

"A lot will depend on what happens when he interacts with John. We have no reason to expect anything but antagonism from John, so until we see how Dean reacts to him, we really have no idea what to expect."

Lily tilted her head inquiringly at Max, then looked at Sam. "Have you had any visions?"

"Not since the last one, before I sent Jake and Andy to help Dean." He replied, watching her carefully.

Everyone of his siblings brought something to the table, and he made it a point to listen to their thoughts. In the end, he would make the final decisions, but they all had valuable insights.

"What if you visit his dreams one more time. You took the guise of your younger self once before. What if you didn't this time. Gauge his reaction." Lily said.

Sam nodded thoughtfully.

"I may do just that. In the meantime, we need to hunt down the last two ingredients for Metatron's spell. Anselm, I want you to work on locating a Nephilim. Max and Lily, you two will search for a cupid. Jake, we need to return to the search for the colt. Andy, we need to revisit the Catholic Church angle. They have the best records. We need information on every possible seal, the angels themselves, and the Demon Cure. We also need to work out the purposes of the Righteous Man."

"And what about me?" Ave said, eyes narrowed.

Sam smiled grimly. "I expect our angel friend will keep you busy enough. But in the meantime, Metatron told us some interesting things about prophets."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean was dreaming again. The colors were too vibrant, the sounds just a little too indistinct. So he knew he was dreaming, but this time it wasn't about anyplace he recognized.

He was on a rooftop overlooking a city. It was dark, the deep dark that only came after midnight, and though stars sprinkled the sky, the night was moonless.

His boots crunched in the gravel sprinkled across the roof, and he walked closer to the edge, studying the skyline. He didn't recognize the silhouettes of the buildings in the distance, but this was a dream, after all, so perhaps it wasn't a real city.

"It's real." A broken-velvet voice said from behind him, and Dean froze in disbelief. He recognized that voice, though it was different, older, so much older than seven years somehow.

"Sammy." Dean's voice was choked, breaking on the single word as he pivoted around to face the man behind him.

It was dark, so dark Dean could barely make out his features, and Christ, he was tall, he'd never even imagined Sammy would get so tall.

"This is a dream, though." Sam agreed, coming forward to stand beside Dean casually, taking in the view.

"Sammy." Dean choked out again, unable to make it past that one single word, and this was the best and worst dream of his life.

"I prefer Sam." Sam's voice was quiet and calm, yet something about it sounded like steel and ice and fire and _not-Sam_.

Dean reached out to grab Sam's shoulders, to hug him or hit him, he wasn't sure which, but it was like one of those horrible nightmares where the more you want to move the harder it is.

Everything felt surreal, and slightly distant, and Dean wondered if it was the dream that was muffling his emotions somewhat. He couldn't understand why else he wasn't yelling and pleading and bleeding, because, God knew, that what he felt like most of the time anyway.

"If you fight too hard, I won't be able to maintain this dream." Sam said idly, and Dean's mind came to a screeching, screaming halt.

"Are you saying this is real?" Dean demanded.

"It's really a dream." Sam acknowledged. "Andy said you needed to see me. This is the best I can do under the circumstances."

"Where are you? I'll come to you. Just tell me where you are and I'll-" Dean's rambling words were cut off as Sam turned to him suddenly. The starlight offered a dim illumination, illustrating a handsome, boyish face made of deep cheekbones and harsh angles. It shouldn't have worked at all, yet it was striking, beautiful even.

"Dean." Sam's voice was low, commanding. "I can't come to you, and you know it. I'm a demon, Dean. I know that Andy told you. I and the other children who escaped came back as demons. It's too dangerous for us to meet. I have enemies, and now that John has resurfaced, you don't need my protection."

"Screw your protection." Dean shouted. "I want to see you, Sammy. I've been looking for you for seven years, Sam. Every day. I never stopped. And now you're back, and if I have to search every god damned city in the world, I'm going to find you."

"Don't." Sam commanded lowly, and Dean flinched from his tone. "You have to understand this, Dean. _I went to hell_. I can never be what I was before. For your own sake, tell yourself that your brother died in hell, because I am not that little boy, Dean. He died, lifetimes ago. I'm someone else, _something else_. I only came to warn you. Things are moving quickly now. Be careful, be on alert. Don't trust anyone, not other Demons, not hunters, not Da- anyone." Sam corrected himself, but Dean caught his meaning anyway.

"What do you mean, don't trust Dad?" He cried, alarmed.

Sam took a step away. "Everyone would use you for their own purposes, Dean. Be careful."

Dawn was cresting the horizon, though Dean was certain he'd only been on the rooftop for a few moments. That breaking light painted Sam's features, and Dean's breath caught.

It was Sammy, and yet, it wasn't.

He looked beautiful and half-feral. His lips were the same shape, yet they were held more firmly now. The hair was still overlong, but suddenly, staring at his brother, Dean couldn't picture it any other way.

But his eyes were the worst. The were deep, deep like the ocean or a black hole, greys and greens and blues and browns a kaleidoscope of color, like oil on water. They were captivating, and so, so _cold_.

They studied Dean intently, and Dean felt stripped bare, like he was naked in front of a thousand people, with all his deepest, darkest secrets exposed.

"Are you really a demon?" Dean said, and oh, his voice hadn't sounded so young in years, he was a grown man, but in that moment he was that little lost four year old all over again.

Sam tilted his head. "I am...really a demon. And so are my siblings."

"I'm your sibling!" Dean countered instinctively, heart hammering with the absolute _wrongness_ of Sam's words.

He thought he'd been ready, but he wasn't, would never, could never have been ready to look at his kid and see the familiar eyes of a stranger.

"The others are more like me now than you can ever be." Sam said the words simply, without malice, without any emotion whatsoever, as if he were commenting on the weather, and Dean railed against his body's refusal to move, because he needed to pace, and punch and maybe jump off the goddamned roof.

"What does that mean?" Dean forced himself to breathe, to approach this like a case, to gather information.

He'd been going into this like an emotional teenager, but obviously, Sam wasn't and if Dean wanted answers, wanted to try and find someway to fix Sam he would need information.

But, oh God, this hurt. Looking at his brother hurt.

"We survived something unsurvivable. And now we are different. We are not what you are." Sam tuned away, walking to the far edge, and Dean panicked, sensing Sam pull away from him. All his good intentions about being calm, being smart flew out the window.

"Please, Sam. Just...please." Dean trailed off, beyond words, and Sam stopped, turning to look at him.

'What do you want from me, Dean?" Sam asked curiously.

Dean laughed humorlessly. "I want my brother back!" He said.

Sam looked at him for a long moment. "Your brother died, Dean. All I have his memories and his name."

"That's not true." Dean denied vehemently, surprising even himself. "You've been trying to protect me all this time, Sam. Why, if not because you're still my brother."

Sam paused, looking troubled. "Don't trust anyone, Dean. Not me, not my siblings, not Dad. There are no good guys in this battle. Stay alive, stay armed, keep your eyes and ears open. Assume everyone is lying to you."

"You're not actually telling me anything." Dean argued.

"I'm telling you how to survive, Dean. It's one thing I excel at. You're been running around, drinking, talking to the wrong people. Chasing every lead no matter how dangerous. If you continue, you're going to get killed. That's the only truth there is in this whole mess." Sam's voice was cold, as hard as steel, and Dean couldn't help but shudder. He pushed on nonetheless.

"I won't give up on you." Dean insisted.

And it was true.

Suddenly, Dean had no more doubts. Demon or not, different though he was, acted, looked, Sam was still trying to protect Dean, even if he didn't realize it.

Sam was still in there somewhere, and that was all Dean needed to know.

"You're my brother." Dean stated, suddenly free of the worry, the anxiety. "And you're back, wherever the hell you are, and you might as well come to me in person, because I will never stop looking for you. That's all there is to it.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam ended the dream abruptly, partially because he was surprisingly rattled by Dean's words, which, while not completely unexpected, had wrought a surprisingly unexpected set of emotions in Sam.

However, the second reason he ended the dream was slightly more pressing and he sat up from where he was laying on the roof of his building looking over Seattle.

He was no longer alone.

He stood smoothly, impassive mask effortlessly sliding back into place and he faced the intruder.

He studied her for a minute, before relaxing. "Isabel." He acknowledged as she sauntered forward. "i though you might turn up sooner rather than later."

"New body, new name." She reminded him with a wicked smile as she stood in front of him and he smiled at the reminder that she liked to take on not just the body, but the life and name of whatever host she had at the moment.

"So sorry." He smirked. "The blond hair threw me off. You've been Isabel for what, a decade now? So, what exactly should I call you?

Her grin widened, her eyes flickering ebony dark for a moment.

"You'll get a kick out of this." She pursed her lips, obviously pleased with herself.

Sam tilted his head questioningly.

"Just call me Meg." She said, her voice all broken, jagged edges and rose petals.

Sam laughed out loud. "You've come full circle, sister." He said and she shrugged.

"I can do better than that, Sam." She paused dramatically. He raised a brow.

"Azazel revealed the first seal, and little brother, it's gonna be a hell of a party. You might regret making that deal with Bela after all. Because know I know why Lilith bought her contract, even though it was risky."

Sam's face lost it's laughter, his eyes sharpening, and Meg felt the shifting power around him.

Looking up at him, she said "It's innocent blood, Sam. Bela would have been the most innocent blood in hell since the hounds brought you home. And father and Lilith need her. The Righteous Man has to spill innocent blood in hell. That's the first seal."

"The Righteous Man has a one-way ticket to heaven." Sam argued.

She raised a brow. "It's not supposed to be easy to pop the box Sam. But now we know the key to the first lock."


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N**_**: Whooo! Wasn't sure I was going to get this out on time. Sorry about missing the Sunday update, but life has been a little crazy, and unfortunately, it's gonna get worse over the next few days, as my laptop needs fixing (AGAIN).**

**It would really make my day if you review. My fluffy project seems to get more mileage when I update, so maybe the fandom prefers fluff? I love this story, but I want to write stuff that gets read, so share your thoughts.**

**Also...oh, this is hard to say. Sooner or later, on of the seven has to...um...die. Really, really die. This is your warning, so prepare yourselves. I kind of know who I think it's going to be, but review and leave your vote, if you want. I'm not gonna set up a poll for this, just leave your thoughts in a review. I'm curious to see if my readers are leaning the same way I am. Also, maybe, possibly, in the next two chapters or so, I think the Brothers Winchester will meet in person. Pegging the next update for Sunday.**

**As Always,**

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: I want a tiger. Oh, I mean...not mine. **

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter 12**

"**Hide and Seek"**

"_And Sam?" Dean asked, afraid to ask, terrified to ask._

_She looked at him steadily. "Sam was Azazel's favorite. First draft pick. Your families bloodlines combined with you're father's training. They called him the Boy King. It was a prophecy, an old one, that Azazel was determined to make good on. But Sam was stubborn, he was so damn stubborn. Azazel did things to him, things even I can't imagine. There are things they don't talk about afterward, Dean, even in Hell. But Sam wouldn't break, wouldn't bend. He refused to become Azazel's good little soldier."_

_Dean flinched at her choice of words, a thousand memories of a teenaged Sam fighting with their Dad flashing across his mind._

"_So what happened, then?" He asked, eyes glued to the girl in front of him. She was no longer fighting her bonds, instead, almost rocking inside them as she told her story._

"_Azazel figured it out." She said darkly, her eyes a thousand years away. She looked up, directly at Dean, and he was struck by the insane notion that he was somehow seeing her soul, bared in that moment the way winter strips a tree of it's foliage, the bones of it's bare branches stark against the January sky. _

"_He figured out what Sam was willing to kill for." She whispered, and yet her voice echoed, and Dean could imagine her words tracing their way up the walls and out the skylight, chasing themselves out into the universe, feral and broken and fearless and tragic._

"_What?" Dean replied, dread churning in his stomach._

"_Us." She spoke ominously. _

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean awoke with a start in yet another nameless, faceless hotel room, legs tangled in his sweat dampened sheets, the material clinging to him like ensnaring vines.

_Sam._

_Oh, God._

Dean stumbled into the bathroom, making it in just the nick of time. He lost what little was left of whatever had been in his stomach in the first place.

It was true. It was really, truly true.

He had thought it, said it, discussed it with Bobby, discussed it with the other lost children, but nothing had truly prepared Dean the events of his dream.

There was absolutely no doubt in Dean's mind that the dream had been real, had been true.

Yes, it had been foggy and blurred, disorienting the way dreams were, but that didn't change the fact that it was real.

And more than that, it had felt like...well.

It had felt like _Sam_.

Being on that roof with Sam for just a few minutes in a damn dream had been enough, because everything about it, the chosen location, the moonlight, the voice.

It all felt like Sam.

_Dean had talked to Sam._

He was older, harder, colder, there was no doubt about it.

Being around him had set off Dean's hunter's instincts, but that wasn't all. Being around that demon on the roof had also set of Dean's big brother instincts, had reached out and soothed that part of him that had spent the last seven years chasing every shadow, searching every face, haunting every dark place looking for the kid he had practically raised.

While the hunter inside him had been screaming _kill-run-defend-demon_, the brother inside him had simply said **_Sam_**.

Dean had spent the last seven years listening to the hunter inside him and it had got him nothing.

His mother, _dead_.

His brother, _gone_.

His father, _run away_.

Screw the hunter. Dean meant what he said in the dream.

He wanted his brother back. All this time he had been back, Sam had been avoiding Dean, yet he had still been keeping him in his peripheal vision, sending back up and advice.

In his dream, he had warned Dean.

Demon or not, some part of Sam was still Sam, still felt something for Dean, and there was nothing in Dean capable of walking away from that.

Quite the opposite.

Booting up his laptop, he started googling. Three hours later, he had what he was looking for.

The picture matched Dean's dream to a _tee_, minus the night sky, as the photo was taken during the day.

Seattle. Sam was in Seattle.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava heard the rustle of wings behind her. Petting one finger along the paper thin edge of her angel blade, she continued to study the building ahead of her.

"Do I even want to know where you got that?" The voice was the same, though it lacked some of the amusement from the night at the zoo.

"It was a gift from my sister." Ava answered without looking around, eyes trained to the far doorway across the street.

"From one of my sisters seems more likely." The voice had a chill to it now, and she rolled her eyes and turned around.

"I'm working." She stated plainly. "And if it really makes any difference to you, I'm pretty sure it was a brother."

"Who?" Gabe demanded, pulling his own blade and advancing slowly, a predator all his own, moonlight glinting off the dark champagne hair and whiskey eyes.

Ava tossed her own dark mane behind her. "Seriously? I thought you didn't do politics? Why don't you go haze some foot ball players or somethnig."

"Who, Ava?" He demanded threateningly.

Just them, screams erupted from across the street, and frantic people fled from the building, crying, some bleeding.

"Always making me late." She muttered, stalking over to the ledge of the rooftop she was standing on.

He joined her quickly at the edge, staring down into the chaos.

"What is that?" He demanded, squinting.

"You're looking with the wrong eyes, angel." She murmured, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He tossed her a look of his own, then looked back at the building, lips curling back with disgust.

"False witness." His words dripped disdain.

"You can smite him when I'm done." She offered carelessly.

"Why would you kill another Demon?" He asked.

"I doubt I'll kill him. I just...want to talk to him." She waggled the blade at him, and he smiled one-sidely.

"I bet." He said sarcastically.

"You coming?" She asked, climbing onto the ledge, turning her back on the chaos and facing the arch angel, the low wall serving to give her a few inches height over his own.

"What are you up too, arch demon?" He said, a calculating look in his eyes.

"You're obviously bored. And Angels hate false witnesses more than most, right? Demon's born from false holy men who abused their privileges? Right up your alley, Loki."

"I think I better keep an eye on you." His words were almost flirting, yet there was a look of dark seriousness in his eyes. "Need a lift?" HE gestured to the three story drop below them.

She raised a brow sardonically. "Who needs wings?" And with that, she let herself fall back, arms outstretched gracefully. Gabe leaned forward, watching despite himself, as she turned, catlike in midair, landing neatly in a crouch on the street below.

"Michael may have gotten more than he bargained for, with you." He murmured to himself thoughtfully.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Andy paced around the cleric, studying the man intently. Finally, he reached over and pulled down the man's gag.

The man immediately launched into an exorcism, Latin tumbling from his lips.

"Hush now." Andy said amicably enough. "That wouldn't work on me anyway, Father, but it gives me a bitch of a headache.

"Demon." The man spat, and Andy smiled, delighted at his spirit.

"Father Macey, is that any way to treat a guest?" He chided, walking over to study the man's book shelves. Pulling out a few tomes that either he or Sam might find interesting later, he set them down next to his ipod.

Turning back to his host, he watched the man struggle in silence.

"I'll make you a deal." Andy offered, and the man's eyes widened.

"I would rather die than deal with the likes of you." The man spat at him, and Andy's eyebrow lifts. With a flick of his wrist, the ropes binding the Father fell to the ground.

Andy tossed his blade to the ground.

"Pick it up." He said, but this time he used to power in his voice, the words echoing in the crowded study, and the man's eyes widened in horror as he found himself helpless to disobey.

"Hold it against your wrist." Andy commanded, and if anything, the Father's horror mounted.

"Suicide's a cardinal sin, isn't it, Father?" Andy questioned idly, making himself at home in the chair behind the desk.

"Be a shame to go to hell after all your years of studying the seals and the cage of Lucifer." He continued.

"What do you want?" The man's voice wavered, breaking a little, and Andy smiled at his feet, propped up on the desk. Leaning his head back casually, he stretched his neck, rolling his shoulders.

Finally, he looked at the man in front of him.

"I want to know everything you know about the seals." He said, all traces of playfulness gone.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava slashed and cut, a writhing, whirling dervish as she transversed the floor of what had been a quiet, hole in the wall bar only a few hours again. She could sense the angel to her right and slightly behind, his aura pressing against her skin like the setting of the sun.

False Witnesses were a special breed of demons, born of the tortured souls of false men of the cloth who had lied, cheated, raped, stolen and murdered. They tended to travel with an entourage, and this one was no different, a horde of angry lower demons raining down pain and suffering on the patrons of the bar.

Ava laughed as she cut another down. The man fell to her feet, moaning, and her lips curled back as she hissed at him.

From the corner of her eye, she saw another demon launch himself at her, but she had noticed to late, that was always the risk of working without her siblings. She braced herself for the pain of his blade in her side, but it never came.

She finished turning, blade raised, to find the man now nothing more than a smoldering pile of ash. Her eyes widened just slightly at Gabe as he stood with a cocky grin before her.

"A thank you would be nice." He smirked.

Her eyes darkened. "Don't ever save me again. Don't try, don't even think about it." She hissed, furious. She had spent too many lifetimes waiting to be saved for an angel to try and rescue her now.

She stalked over to the now cowering Demon, the False Witness's appearance flickering back and forth between the visage of a smiling, handsome man and a disgusting, half-rotted corpse. False Witnesses were cursed to bear bodies that showed their true natures, never one thing or another.

But Ava was interested in something even more rare about that special breed of demon.

Ignoring the angel who had come to stand at her back, she began to chant the entrapment spell Meg had taught her, the Latin rolling flawlessly off her tongue.

False Witnesses were hunted by other demons for only one purpose. Trap one with the correct spell, and it would have to give you a true answer to any one question of it's choosing. Even if it didn't know the truth itself, the truth would crawl out it's throat, spill down it's lips.

That was the true curse of the False Witness. To be hunted for the truth.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam studied the skyline, lost in his thoughts. Meg came up beside him quietly, like his other siblings, she enjoyed high places.

"Dean's found you." She said quietly.

"I know." He murmured. "I thought perhaps he might. I left him a clue in his dream, the question was whether or not he would pursue it."

"Well, he did. So what are you gonna do about it?" She said flippantly, as brash and unafraid as Ava and any of the others around him.

Meg was older, far older, but her story had been strikingly similar to Sam and the others. Not quite the same, of course, but she and Rainier had both been chosen by Azazel centuries ago.

Sam had spent decades hating her, for, on Azazel's command she had featured often in his torture. But when he discovered the true nature of Azazel's plan for him, he'd made a play for her loyalty. His logic had won her over, and she'd served as a double agent for years now.

"My father has located the hell gate." She added.

"That's...unfortunate. And Rainier?" Sam asked.

Meg had come over to his side, but Rainier was loyal to no one but Azazel, and Meg bore him no love.

"I don't know. Father has grown suspicious since your escape. We have to move faster." She urged.

Sam turned to her, eyes flashing. "We can go no faster, Meg." His voice was chilling, and Meg forced back shudders. She was powerful, but Sam had been forged into a weapon lifetimes ago, and she'd be a fool not to acknowledge that.

"I'll do what I can. He may have a lead on the colt." She said finally, and Sam nodded.

"Go, then." He commanded, and she disappeared into the with, the scent of sulfur drifting behind her.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean studied the skyline before him. He'd been driving non stop for hours, and he was beyond relieved that the city in the distance matched the crude drawing he'd made as soon as he had awoken from the dream in which he'd spoken to Sam.

Climbing back into the Impala, he started the engine and headed into the city to find a motel.

He tossed the sketch on top of the newspaper he'd snagged at the gas station a few miles back, an unwitting piece of good luck.

Dean knew he could tear about Seattle brick by brick and still not find Sam if he didn't want to be found. Sam might have already left, in fact.

But Dean was betting that some part of Sam, no matter how small, wanted to be found. The dream's location had been an obvious clue.

Dean was determined to make it as easy as possible for Sam or any of his so-called siblings (and Dean really couldn't think about that for long without needing to scream) to contact him.

Until now, they had always contacted him to help him with whatever case he was working on.

He glanced down at the newspaper, folded open to reveal the article that had caught his attention.

"Seattle local dies, eye's gouged out, body found in locked bathroom!" The headline screamed, Dean squared his shoulders.

Time to play hide and seek, little brother.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava paced back and forth in front of her captive, a wicked smile curving her lips. Gabe leaned against the door frame in the back ground, enjoying her work.

She reminded him a little of his ex, Kali.

The witness gibbered and shrieked, keening at her, switching from Latin to E'norkat, and she answered back, still more Latin pouring from her own mouth.

This was the third time she had repeated the ritual, this Witness was stronger than most, but she appreared tireless, driven.

"Fine." It suddenly spit at her, lips peeled back to reveal rotted, yellowing teeth. "What exactly is it the little girl would like to know?"

She cocked her head, judging it's truthfulness.

"Give me some options." She said, tossing some Holy Water from a flask in her jacket on the wailing demon.

"A colt, a key, a righteous man, an angel of the lord." It sang, voice high and reedy like nails on a chalkboard. "The cupid, the cure, the King of Hell, or..." It drew the word out painfully, and Gabe winced at the discord.

"The names of Azazel's newest children." It laughed then, and she screamed in fury, throwing more Holy Water on it.

Whipping out her blade, she stabbed the disgusting creature where it's heart should have been. It partially disintegrated in a flash of smoke and sulfur, and she stood above what remained of it's carcass.

"What did it mean, the cure?" Gabe said, striding up to her, grabbing her arm.

Ava didn't even seem to see him, lost in her own thoughts, and he found himself wondering why in the name of the Father he even cared about some little girl Demon.

She blinked, looking at him.

"It's starting again." She said.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Getting So Close! **

**In the next Chapter, the boys will meet in person for the first time. Stupidly excited. Also, I am going to start segueing the chapters in this story from an average of around 3000 words to an average of closer to 5000 or 6000, I'll be honest, I'm just stupidly tired today, and this next chapter deserves full attention and I just don't have it today. **

**I put this story through boot camp this weekend. I did the entire plot line, complete with color coding of my characters so I could make sure I wasn't dropping any plot lines. This chapter has a lot from the girls in my story, I let you take a peek in their heads, as well as Gabriel's. I hope you enjoy it. I want this story to be full of fleshed out characters, not just Sam and Dean, and once they start interacting more, naturally more of the story will be about them, so I wanted to take the opportunity to give some other favorites some prime time.**

**Thank you so much to all my reviewers. I have several who review as guests, and it kinda breaks my heart because they'll ask wonderful questions, but I'll be honest, I don't answer questions in my author's notes unless multiple readers express confusion over something. As many of my reviewers will tell you, I'll very happily answer specific questions via a pm response to a review. I love talking about my stories, and I love hearing from my readers. Please don't ever hesitate to hit me up with a question, but if you want a response, I will need a way to answer you privately. Some readers love spoilers, but others don't, so I don't add them to my authors notes, I pm my thoughts and answers in a private message instead.**

**As for my other projects, the goal is for Prisoner of War to update late this evening, and my fluffy project, How To Fix a Winchester, got an update Thursday night. If your a fan of that project, please remember I do accept canon prompts, because the challenge is fun for me!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**As Always, **

_**EverReader**_

**Disclaimer: Not my Sandbox**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Thirteen**

"**The Perfect Storm"**

"_Thirteen of us had already died. Azazel had been keeping Sam separate all this time, a king doesn't bunk with his army. _

_But then Azazel realized that Sam wouldn't do what Azazel wanted just to protect himself. _

_So one day, he gave Sam a choice. They dragged me out of our cell by my hair, and then they brought out Sam. I hadn't seen him before. He stood there, defiant, and I couldn't understand how he could even stand at all. And then Azazel gave him a choice. They could put me on the rack, or they could strap Sam on in my place."_

"_Sam protected you." Dean said, heart breaking for the gentle little brother who'd sacrificed himself for another child deep in the bowels of hell._

"_He protected all of us. Some days it was me. Other days it was Andy, or Lily or Jake." She paused, then continued again. _

"_The torture never stopped, we were never off the hook. But they'd take us to the very edge of breaking, and then they'd give Sam the option of taking our place. And he did it. Every time. Sam never faltered. He never said no. It still gave them what they wanted, though. Emotional pain can twist you just as well as physical torture. He always knew it was coming. We always knew how bad they'd break us before they'd let Sam save us. They started putting him in our cells at night. We'd lay there, bleeding and freezing, and he'd talk to us. For hours, for lifetimes. I can't remember my mother's voice Dean. It burned away down there. But I remember Sam's voice. The lullaby that sang me to sleep in a cage in hell."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Gabe watched impassively as Ava destroyed what was left of the bar. Though every muscle in his body was as relaxed and casual as a man on vacation, inside his mind was whirring at a thousand feet per second.

Ava ripped a heavy oaken door off it's hinges and threw it into the long mirror behind the bar, broken glass raining down on the bodies strewn beneath it, and one of Gabe's eyebrows lifted, impressed despite himself.

She'd been like this for the past half an hour, a whirling, furious dervish.

The cops had already shown up and left, distracted by the emergency call for help that the chief of police had called in (despite the fact that the chief was, in fact five days into a two-week vacation at that moment).

Gabriel had taken care of the police without a second thought, wanting to observe the girl as she worked through her emotions rather...passionately.

Gabe was a passionate being himself, he could appreciate it in others, even demons, apparently.

Though Ava was like no other Demon he had ever encountered. He'd heard, years ago, that his brother Lucifer had whispered into the ear of Azazel, his most loyal follower, about creating living Arch Demons, from where he was locked away in the cage.

Gabe had pulled away from the drama and politics millennium ago, unable to watch his family destroy themselves while their Father turned a blind eye to the turmoil.

So yes, he'd known, intellectually what Azazel had been up to. He'd even understood, theoretically, that it could work.

But to look at Ava was something else completely.

A living, breathing, practically fully empowered Arch Demon. She was like mercury, liquid and metal and beautiful and deadly.

A very pretty way to die, indeed.

All the other Arch Demons Gabe had encountered in his long existence had never gained have the power she carelessly threw around without dying and finishing their transitions in hell. Gabe had never seen a living human soul, still bound to it's own, original body yet twisted and darkened so badly.

It was like looking at a tree that had somehow managed to grow, twisted and stunted into the solid rock of a mountain top. It physically hurt to look at her, the absolute wrongness of her very nature, and yet he found himself unable to take his eyes off her.

What was most disturbing, and yet the most fascinating, were the flashes of undamaged soul he could sometimes see, hidden under the scars and damage and other changes wrought from a torturous and overlong exposure to Hell and Demon's blood.

Gabe could smell the Demon's blood on her and in her, both her own tainted blood (far more tainted than any other living creature he had ever encountered) as well as the blood she obviously consumed in order to survive.

Her soul had adapted to survive hell, but on earth, her own human body was toxic to it, and she obviously consumed Demon blood, not only as fuel for her powers, but to protect the demonic aspects of her own soul, like coolant in an engine, keeping her own body from poisoning and destroying her soul, and vice-versa.

But sometimes, through the darkened haze of the demon blood, Gabe would see flashes of human soul, a soul that was both ancient and childlike, that had somehow survived, cocooned inside the damage, wrapped safe and snug inside the scar tissue.

Nothing in his centuries of centuries of existence had prepared him for something like her.

She was like a perfect storm.

And what in the name of the Father was she and her brethren searching for? The Witness had mentioned a cure.

A cure for what?

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean was studying the discomforted girl in front of him. She was twisting her hands, looking about the bedroom anxiously.

"I shouldn't have let you in here. I told Jill's mom I just needed some time to look at Jill's pictures." Charlie said, eyes nervously meeting Dean's.

Dean tried to comfort her as best he could. "Charlie, you're the one who mentioned the connection between the two deaths. You mentioned Bloody Mary. At the funeral, your friend's little sister was sure it was bloody Mary who killed her father, and you said Jill purposefully said it to try and convince her otherwise. That night, she died. In my line of work, something like that isn't usually a coincidence."

Dean was trying his best, trying to focus on the case, but a part of him was waiting, watching and listening. For Ava or Andy, Lily or Max. Even Jake.

Waiting for Sam.

Forcing his mind back to the frightening girl in front of him, he reassured her again. "Look, we know this is the second house this has happened in. You just sit right here, on the bed, while I check out the bathroom, okay, Charlie?"

Charlie nodded jerkily, lips pressed together to control their quivering.

Dean moved towards the bathroom, checking it out as professionally as he could, but still, he was watching, waiting, listening.

Would Sam finally show up?

He wondered how long he would have to wait. He knew Sam was in Seattle, or, at least, he had been in Seattle less than two days ago.

He nearly missed the writing on the mirror, his black light just barely catching the tail end of the last letters of the second word.

"Charlie?" Dean called out, walking back out to look at her. "Who's Tommy Sullivan?"

"Oh, my god." Charlie breathed out, collapsing into tears. "Oh, god, I knew it."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Meg braced herself as she entered Azazel's library.

Her so-called father had taken up residence in a grand house in one of the older sections of the city, and if Meg concentrated hard enough, she could smell the decomposing bodies of the home's previous occupants where they lay, rotting in the basement.

Azazel wasn't her real father, of course, any more than he was Rainier's father, or Sam's. But hell had whitewashed most of her human memories away long before gravity had been discovered.

For lifetimes, she had been loyal to Azazel and his cause, pushing down any doubts, any misgivings.

That was how you survived hell, in her opinion.

You found a cause, and you believed in it, made it real, because the most dangerous thing about hell was that nothing ever was real.

You could die and wake up again. Talk to someone you trusted, only to find out they were never even in the room with you. You had to create your own reality, and then believe in it hard enough to make it real, and for centuries, Meg's reality had been Azazel's crusade to free Lucifer, the Demon's One True God, as Azazel called him.

Oddly enough, it had been Azazel's insistence that she and Rainier help in the torture and training of the living arch demons that had triggered some of her long forgotten memories.

Not many from her human life, that dim, dark time before the stark fire and ice of hell, but memories of after her death, when she had first been a human soul in hell.

She had been different to begin with, as had Rainier, of course.

He had already been in Hell when she arrived. They had both become Arch Demons, as they had made deals in their human lives with Azazel.

Sometimes, for just the barest moment, Meg could remember why she made her deal, remember a sick little brother and a dead mother, and the smell of burning bodies. Whatever her long ago reasoning, she had come into hell, already having started the transition into Arch Demon.

Her transition had been nothing like Sam and the others, of course. She had died long before Azazel had realized what he would need to free Lucifer.

No, Azazel had created her and Rainier simply because he had wanted to, for companionship, for obedience, as the perfect tools to further his quest to free the Father of all demons.

She pushed open the door. Azazel was standing over the body of a cowering demon, and she moved to stand quietly by the wall until he was finished. She could feel the waves of his displeasure, and was thankful it wasn't her it was directed at.

That could all change in a bare second, of course if Azazel discovered her treachery before Sam managed to destroy him.

Rainier entered only a split second after she did, and Meg forced herself to remain relaxed.

It was dangerous, so very, very dangerous, what Meg was doing.

But she had found that what held true in hell, held true on earth.

Find a cause and follow it.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava continued to ignore the arch angel, consumed with venting her rage and pain, desperate to throw it all out in the universe for someone else to deal with, allowing her to once again be firmly, completely, blessedly _numb_.

Azazel had started again.

He was hunting children, infants just like her, like Lily and Andy and Sam.

He was luring in their parents, singing siren songs of dreams come true, and Ava just wanted the screaming in her head, the rage and the anger and the pain to go away.

_Azazel had started again._

She would happily tear down a building, burn down an orphanage, anything to quiet this monster inside of her, this screaming, crying child inside her, this little girl she barely remembered being who had started screaming hysterically the moment the witness's words had reached her.

**Azazel had started again.**

_Sam. _

She needed Sam, needed to tell him, to report what she had discovered, but more than that, she needed to hear his voice, needed him to make her believe that this was _real_, that they were out and this wasn't all some new game of Azazel's.

She needed Sam to make the little lost girl crying in her head go back to sleep so that Ava didn't have to scream out her pain for her.

She threw herself up, onto the bar, pacing frantically back and forth, kicking beer glasses off, sending bottles flying every which way.

She pulled out her cell phone, dialing without needing to look.

"Ava?" Sam questioned, and she forced herself to listen, to breathe, to picture Sam, picture his face as he talked.

"I found the witness." She said tightly.

"Tell me." Sam ordered tightly, and immediately, her shoulders started to relax a little, because somehow _he knew_.

Sam knew, just from her four little words that something was incredibly, completely fucked up.

He wasn't ordering her to report, the way it might sound to someone who hadn't poured out lifetimes of pain and fear to him.

No.

Sam was ordering her to tell him who hurt her, to give him the name of whoever it was he was about to start hunting, to give a title to whatever monster had made the little girl inside her head start screaming.

It was enough.

Even knowing that they were no closer today to killing Azazel then they were the day they escaped, just knowing that Sam would rip the heart out of someone who had hurt her, hurt any of them was enough. It calmed the screaming child inside her head the way it had a thousand other times.

The knowledge that Sam would keep her safe.

"Azazel has started creating a second group of Arch Demons, Sam. Like us." She said the words quietly, but she knew he heard her, could feel it.

"Azazel had started again." It was both freeing and damning, saying the words aloud, giving voice to the screaming girl. The words had weight to them, and they tasted bitter in her mouth, but it was so much better once she had said them aloud.

"Go. Find them. Do whatever is necessary, Ava. By any means. This ends with us." Sam said the command like a blessing, and to her, it was.

It was permission, permission to quiet the screaming girl in her head once and for all, to silence her with the first hand evidence that it was finally over.

She closed her phone without answering, neither of them needed any more words anyway.

She hopped off the bar, continuing to ignore the angel. He'd done nothing but watch and she wasn't in the mood to play.

He fell into step beside her, but she didn't acknowledge him. She stalked down the block to where she had parked her current vehicle.

"The cure for what?" He finally said.

She pulled up short, turning to face him. "Cancer. Now go away. I'm going to go kill a bunch of people, and trust me, you don't want to see it."

"You're going to kill the infants?" Gabe asked, curious and a little horrified.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Anything I have to do will be kinder than what will happen if Azazel gets his way."

She got in her car and pursed her lips in annoyance when the Angel blithely settled in beside her.

"If I promise not to kill any infants, would you go away?" She asked scathingly.

"You aren't going to kill them anyway." Gabe replied confidently.

"What makes you so sure, Arch Angel?" Ava sneered.

He looked at her. "Because I could hear the voice screaming in your head, Arch Demon. I could hear your humanity."

She pulled her lips back, baring her teeth. "She died a long time ago."

"Then she's one heck of a loud ghost." He replied challengingly.

She pressed her lips together, closing her eyes. Opening them again, she turned to face frontward, she started the car and pulled out carelessly, not even looking at the car that had swerved to avoid her.

"You have no idea." She said quietly.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean tugged at his hair in frustration.

He'd checked all the records for the entirety of Seattle for the last one hundred years via what had to be the world's oldest, slowest computer. Then he'd hit the stacks, going through box after box of the older archives, all to no avail.

No Bloody Mary.

No Mary's in front of mirrors. No Mary's in bathrooms. No other history of any other death's in Seattle in the last century that even matched his two victims.

Dean sighed, leaning back in his chair and trying to focus. He'd get caught up in the case, and start to loose track of the time. And then some random thought, some stupid trigger, like the lanky college kid who'd wandered by earlier, would remind him of his true purpose in Seattle.

He was on the case now, it was true, and he wouldn't walk away with it unfinished, but dammit, he hadn't come to Seattle to hunt urban legends. He'd probably have better luck at a slumber party than the library anyway.

Mary appeared to be targeting people with secrets, like Jill, who'd caused the death of that young boy, or the first victim, who's wife, according to Charlie, had died...unexpectedly.

Half an hour ago, he'd reluctantly started a nation wide search on any Mary's who had been murdered in the immediate vicinity of a mirror, but there were only about eight million hits so far, and wading through them all might take the rest of this week.

An icon shaped like an envelope popped up in the lower right hand corner of his screen, and he frowned as he recognized the e-mail symbol. He seldom used email unless he was being emailed information directly from a contact, preferring to communicate over the phone or in person. He wondered if whoever had used the computer last had forgotten to log out of their email, but that didn't make sense either, as Dean had been required to boot the ancient monstrosity the library called a computer up hours ago in order to use it.

The icon continued to flash insistently, and with a growing feeling of excitement, he clicked on it.

His suspicions were at least partly confirmed anyway.

_Save yourself some time.-S_

Below the single line of text was a link to an old Chicago newspaper article, detailing the murder of Mary Coolley in the late seventies.

Sam had found Bloody Mary.

And Dean had found Sam.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Okay, so first of all, I need to say something.**

**MY READERS ARE AMAZING!**

**Okay, now that I got that out of the way, shall we move on with what everyone is dying to read? Without further ado...**

**(As Always)**

_**EverReader**_

**Disclaimer: I still want a tiger. And it's still not my sandbox**

**All The Pretty Monsters- Chapter 14**

"**The Monster In The Mirror"**

_Dean watched her, wordless. _

_She raised her eyes to him. "Eventually, it wasn't enough for Sam to just take on our torture, our pain. It wasn't enough for him to bleed for us. Azazel had a plan, and he wanted more. So one day Azazel told Sam that the only way for Sam to get Lily off the rack was for Sam to choose someone from another cage, another prisoner, to get on in her place. Not one of us, not one of the special kids, just another soul. A random, faceless victim. Azazel told your brother that Lily had one chance to get off that rack. If Sam left her there, she was staying on until there was nothing left. So many of us had died by then, the thought of losing another was more than any of us could bear. And Azazel made Sam choose. Another piece of his humanity, or the life of one of us." _

"_Did he do it?" Dean asked tightly._

"_In a heartbeat." She replied, unsmiling. "He went into the cell himself, and dragged out a victim for Azazel's games. He took my sister off that rack, and the next time Azazel made him choose, he picked someone else, and he took me off the rack. He took Jake off, and Andy. Everyone of us that survived, survived because Sam chose us over someone else. And we followed suit. We chose each other. Time after time after time. Azazel wanted an army, but Sam made us a family."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Andy wiped off his hands before picking up his cell phone, dropping the bloody rag carelessly on the ground.

He'd gained some interesting information on some of the seals he hadn't been aware of. Azazel's library had been vast, but they'd had to research carefully to avoid suspicion. They'd spent years convincing Azazel that they were his obedient army while they'd plotted and planned and gathered information like miners panning for gold.

Most importantly, though, he'd confirmed the information Meg had revealed about the first seal, and the purpose of the righteous man.

In order to break the first of the sixty-six seals, a righteous man had to spill innocent blood in hell.

It was perfect and horrible and clever, all at once, Andy mused to himself.

Righteous men had one-way tickets straight to heaven. Additionally, it was next to impossible for an innocent soul to end up in Hell.

If the angels hadn't become anxious to jump start the apocalypse, if they'd actually been doing their jobs, even Azazel wouldn't have been able to pull it off. Without angelic assistance (or, at least the lack of angelic interference) there was no way a righteous man and an innocent soul would have both ended up in Hell, much less at the same, crucial moment.

Andy was struck by just how much planning on both sides had obviously gone into this. He and his siblings were waging a war on heaven and hell, and the battlefield was vast.

He dialed, brain still on autopilot, running various tidbits of information through his busy mind, looking for patterns or any thing else that could give his siblings an edge in the upcoming battle.

"Andy." Sam said quietly, the one word serving as greeting and question.

He came to attention at the sound of Sam's voice, however, because with only one word, he knew immediately that something was wrong.

"What's happened?" Andy said, wishing he could see Sam's face. Maybe Sam had had another vision?

"It's Ava." Sam answered tersely.

"Is she okay?" Andy asked immediately, already calculating how close he was to her last known location.

"I'm undecided on that count." Sam said heavily. "She learned something upsetting from the Witness, and she's not handling it too well."

"Azazel's started again, hasn't he?" Andy guessed, lips pulling back in disgust at the thought of more children being put through what they had been.

He and Sam had discussed it, years ago, before they'd even escaped Hell.

They'd both searched for any signs or information hinting that Azazel was creating more living Arch Demons, but Azazel had seemed content with the handful he'd had under his control at the time.

Now that they had escaped, it wasn't a surprise that he was making more, though the new children were just as likely to be bait for the seven as they were to be draft picks for Azazel's war games.

It was an unspoken pain among the seven of them, the horrible thought that Azazel might start all over with fresh victims.

Ava being the one to discover it was especially unfortunate, however. Her playful attitude aside, Ava had been a little bit of a favorite of Azazel's, and not in a good way.

She had been his favorite to torture. Sam's torture had been constant and thorough, but in the end, it had been business.

Azazel had genuinely liked hurting Ava.

"Is she still in New Orleans?" Andy questioned.

"Just outside." Sam confirmed.

"Is New Orleans still there?" Andy asked, only slightly jesting.

"Last I heard." Sam answered dryly.

"I can be there in a few hours." Andy offered, wanting to take the burden off of Sam of worrying about their youngest sister. He wanted to see her for himself anyway.

"Did you confirm the information Meg brought us?" Sam asked tiredly.

"Yeah. She got it right. As far as evil plans go, the big man did a pretty good job with locking the box. If even half the angels were worth their halos, this whole plan would never have gotten off the ground." Andy said, as he dumped gasoline on the floor of the study.

Picking up the handful of books he intended to bring back for Sam, he headed towards the door, phone cradled against his shoulders.

"Father pedophile here knew quite a bit. I got us some new light reading. I'll head down to the Big Easy and make sure our darling sister doesn't destroy the state of Louisiana while she tracks down Daddy." Andy said, pausing to flick open a silver zippo and toss it over his shoulder.

The room went up in flames behind him as he strolled out of the church casually. He stood at the top of the stone stairs outside the church, shadow dancing and elongating in front of him, thrown far by the growing inferno behind him.

"She never gave the safe-word, so assume she still has company." Sam directed.

"She hooked him well and proper, didn't she?" Andy mused.

"Let's hope so. She was rattled when we spoke. Get down there quickly. I gave her carte blanche to do what needed to be done, but I don't want her only back up to be an angel who could turn prodigal son at any moment." Sam commanded.

"You want me to kill him?" Andy asked as he climbed into the car he was using.

"No." Sam said firmly. "Just watch out for him."

"You got it." Andy said, and they hung up. Andy pulled into traffic, heading in the direction of the airport.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean got into the Impala, slamming the door heavily behind him.

He'd made Charlie as safe as he could in his hotel room, covering every reflective surface he could think of, the mirrors, the windows, dimming the lights and closing the curtains.

It was only a band-aid solution, though, unless Dean managed to take out Bloody Mary once and for all.

He started to car and headed towards the address he had located on the internet right before Charlie had called him, hysterical and crying, spilling her story about what her friend had done at school.

The antique store was a little more than a hour away, which gave Dean some time to think, if only he could get his damn mind off his brother.

No matter why Dean had come to Seattle, there was a seventeen year old girl back in his motel room who was going to die unless Dean destroyed Mary.

The trouble was, Dean was unsure of how to pin down a ghost that could travel from any mirror to another. Even if Dean destroyed her mirror, what was to stop her from using another?

Did she need to be in the mirror as Dean was destroying it?

That was a dark thought, but not half so dark as the though that followed.

_'Are you afraid she won't come, or afraid that she will?_' The voice whispered in his mind, and the voice sounded a lot like he had back at seventeen or eighteen.

And wasn't that the story of Dean's life these days. Afraid that Mary would show up. Afraid that she won't. Afraid that Sam will show up.

Afraid he won't.

"Fuck it." Dean muttered, pressing harder on the gas pedal.

He'd come to Seattle because he was tired of searching, tired of playing hide and seek.

Maybe Sam's secrets weren't the only ones that needed to come to light.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Meg leaned cautiously against the door, listening carefully.

The voices inside were low, but she'd recognize the sounds of Rainier and Azazel plotting anywhere.

She closed her eyes, listening now with more than just her ears.

It was risky, tiptoing psychically into a room with two of the most dangerous demons in existence, but every instinct was screaming at her that something important was happening, and she needed to know about it.

"Will the angels even allow the righteous man to be possessed?" Rainier's voice was emotionless, free of doubt and disbelief, merely hinting at the mildest of curiosity.

"In this case, I think so. John suits our purposes more anyway, so if you can't possess Dean, kill him. He's either a tool or an obstacle, and it's time to clear the course." Azazel's voice was merry and charming and malicious, and Meg scowled silently.

Wasn't this just peachy.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean walked along the crowded walkways of the cluttered antique store, careful to keep his flashlight aimed at the ground.

He was dusty and pissed off and jumpy as hell. He'd pulled dingy sheets off half a dozen mirrors already, and he was starting to worry that the shop owner had already resold Mary's mirror.

Seeing a door towards the back he hadn't checked yet, he opened it cautiously.

Jackpot.

It appeared to be full of all inbound freight and new acquisitions.

There, in the far corner next to two other mirrors, was a large, antique mirror whose frame exactly matched the one from the crime scene photographs.

Dean steeled himself, taking a deep breath.

"Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava thrust her fist into the chest cavity of the screaming demon, ripping out it's heart like a child might rip the wings off a fly. She shoved her angel blade into it's eye socket just as smoke started to boil from it's lips, and the corpse flared with dark light as another Demon's existence ended.

"Getting tired yet?" Gabe said sarcastically from behind her.

"Not even close." She replied, licking her fingers just to see the look on his face.

"I told you that you'd be bored." She said, eyes flashing as she strode over to the devil's trap and yanked out another demon.

"Same questions. New answers!" She snarled, twisting it's arm up behind it's back until she heard it's wrist snapping.

"Where's...my...father?" She said through gritted teeth, shaking the screaming man for good measure.

"And they say angels are the ones with daddy issues." Gabe muttered to himself. He winced in sympathy as she broke the demon's other wrist.

He had to give her points for stamina, though.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

At first, nothing happened.

Or, at least nothing seemed to happen. Dean stared warily at his reflection, searching every inch of the glass for some sign of Mary. Gradually, however, he noticed frost building up from the corners of the frame.

"You left him. You left him to die." That was when Dean realized what Mary actually did to her victims. Mary didn't appear in the mirror, didn't replace Dean's image with her own, as he had supposed.

His reflection was the only one in the glass.

Dean was the one speaking the words.

"You always resented him, hated having to be responsible for him all the time. Hated that he was Dad's favorite, that he always got everything, and you got nothing." The words were twisted and vicious, made even worse by the fact that they were said in Dean's own voice, with his accent, his inflections, his look of righteous anger reflected back at him.

A shooting, stabbing pain had started up behind Dean's eyes, and he clutched his head instinctively, all thoughts of battling Mary's spirit fled at the first accusation.

"No. No, that's not true. I loved Sam, I loved being his brother. I would never leave him." Dean argued, shaking his head. He could feel something warm and sticky running down his cheeks.

"You left him at the library that night. You were supposed to help him, but you wanted the time to yourself. You always resented how much of your time he took up."

The words were like knives, driving into his brain and Dean dropped to his knees.

"I would never have left him there, if I'd known." He said, swaying and breathing heavily. "And I never hated him." He growled the words defiantly, despite the fact that he was fairly certain he was stroking out.

Sorry Charlie...

"Down!" The command shot across the room like a bullet and Dean gave in to it gratefully. A figure stood over him suddenly, impossibly tall and impossibly fast, swinging a crowbar into the mirror like he was knocking a baseball out of the park, and Dean remembered teaching Sam had to do that, years ago, when Sam had been a kid and Dean had been a kid and oh, shit-

"Sam." He stuttered, pushing himself to his feet, reaching out.

"Sam-"

"She's not gone," Sam said lowly, not looking at Dean, instead, looking around the room warily and gracefully, all smooth lines and jagged angles, a predator in a pawn shop.

"What do you mean?" Dean said, trying to make his legs work, trying to step closer, but his legs were still wobbly and why the hell were they talking about a damn ghost when they hadn't seen each other in seven years?

"I mean..." Sam spoke slowly, a half smile curling across his lips as he studied the other mirrors around them, "That she...is...still...here."

Sam turned then, finally facing Dean head on. "You should go." He said the word commandingly, like someone used to being obeyed, and damned if Dean couldn't hear a trace of John Winchester in his tone.

Dean found himself wondering if Sam's eyes had always looked like this, made up of a thousand colors and none at all at the same time, and the words tumbled out without pause, without thought, but that was okay, because they were the same thing he would have said if he'd had the entire rest of his life to think about it.

"I'm not leaving you."

The two faced each other, Dean's eyes somewhere between hopeful and heartbroken, and Sam's something else entirely.

Sam smiled then, just a little, a dark smile that was nothing like anything Dean had ever seen before, but Dean didn't really give a fuck, because it was Sam, and he was there.

And it was Sam.

Sam tossed Dean the crowbar, just as Mary appeared, pulling herself out of the frame of her broken mirror like some special little breed of nightmare, and Sam's smile widened.

Dean thought maybe, just maybe Sam was enjoying himself.

'Start swinging. Pin her down." Sam called, and flung his hand out at a mirror to their far right. It shattered instantly, and Dean refused to thing about that, instead swinging with all his might at the mirror to his left.

Soon there was nowhere left for her to retreat.

Dean had finally faltered, dropping to his knees again as waves of Mary's power rushed over him. He could feel liquid warmth on his cheeks, and if the graceful trail of blood trickling down Sam's cheek was any indication, Dean could assume it was blood also.

She screamed, lunging towards them, eyes bloody black holes.

Sam raised his hand again, and Dean felt the temperature in the room, already cool, plummet even farther.

Mary was caught, suspended only a few inches off the ground, like a horror movie that had been put on pause.

Sam snarled at her then, a feral sound that sent shivers down his brother's spine.

He clenched his fist, so hard to veins and tendons strained, and every light bulb, every window, every pane of glass in the store shattered at once.

With a scream and a flash of light, Mary was gone and the store was silent.

Dean stared at Sam open-mouthed.

Sam turned and walked over to him, crouching before him. Taking Dean's chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned Dean's face one way, then the other, studying the damage dispassionately. The lack of light appeared not to bother him at all.

"Now do you understand?" He murmured, letting go of Dean's face and standing, wiping his hand on his jeans.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked, completely ignoring Sam's words as he forced himself to his feet, finally overcoming his shock and latching onto Sam's arm.

Sam tensed and stilled, like an animal that Dean had approached unwisely.

Dean's instincts were screaming at him again, but he told them to go fuck themselves.

"Guilt trips don't really hold much sway over a demon." Sam said finally, in a bored sounding voice.

'Sam..." Dean trailed off, unsure of what the hell to say.

He searched everywhere, every moment, for years, yet now that his brother was in front of him, he couldn't think of a single damn thing to say.

No words were big enough, wide enough to capture the tumultuous riot in his mind, in his heart.

So he said it again, the only word that came even close.

"Sam."

Sam looked at him, face as still as stone.

"You were warned not to come, Dean. I tried telling you, all the others tried telling you. I know that you looked for me. I know you thought you wanted to find me. And now you have, and you can't avoid what I am now, Dean. Look at me. I'm not your brother anymore. I'm a demon. And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away."

"Shut up." Dean replied instantly, voice shaking in sudden fury. "Don't you say that to me. I looked for you for seven years, and I fucking found you. And I'll look for another seven years, if that's what it takes to fix you."

Sam laughed then, the sound dark and mirthless. "Found me? _Fix me_? You didn't find me, Dean. I found you. And you can't fix me, _because I'm not broken_."

"You're a demon!" Dean cried.

Suddenly Sam had him pinned, feet off the ground, back against the wall.

"That's right, Dean. But I'm not just any demon. I'm the top of the fucking food chain, _brother_. I'm strong and I'm powerful and I've got big plans. So get over your little dreams of a happy homecoming and get the hell out of my way. I warned you, and I've done my best to protect you, but this ends now, Dean. The little boy you tucked into bed died. The hell hounds came and took him away and _he died_. I'm not that little boy anymore. Time to let go."

With that, Dean felt another surge of power, and suddenly he found himself on the ground, alone in the destroyed store. Sam was nowhere to be seen, but that was fine.

Dean had found him once.

He'd fucking do it again.

He was gonna get Sam back.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Okay, here we go! Lots and lots of action in this chapter. And like I said, I'm trying to transition this story over to longer chapters, so that there isn't 300 by the time this story is done.**

**I got some amazing reviews after the last update, and I really wanted everyone to know how much it means to me. Since this story is Dark-side Sam, it's not everyone's choice of reading material, but my readers have all been fiercely loyal and I want everyone to know how much I appreciate it. **

**I'm hoping either this story or my other AU will hit 100 reviews soon, which has never happened to me, as I mostly write in smaller fandoms, and I am stupidly excited over this fact. So naturally, I'd love to hear your thoughts and questions.**

**If you've been following my other AU, you know that I recently asked my readers to let me know if they wanted me to make Prisoner of War longer than originally intended. So far, all the feedback leans towards a longer story, so while I re-work that story outline to accommodate, I thought I would get another chapter of ATPM up for all my wonderful readers. If you do follow Prisoner of War, please stop by my profile and vote on the episodes you'd like to see featured, as that input will help me make my outline, and get me ready to update faster.**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox. Mine is shaped like a turtle.**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter 15**

"**Family Reunion"**

"_Sam chose victims for Azazel?" Dean whispered in disbelief. _

"_He promised to protect us. So he did." Ava said fiercely, eyes burning into his._

"_They made us watch, they made Sam watch as they tortured the other souls. They made him stare straight at the consequences of his actions, the fallout of his choices. For years we woke up with nothing but the knowledge that it was either us or them. They would bleed or we would."_

_She watched him, drinking in his reactions. She'd waited lifetimes to tell this story._

"_Eventually, it becomes easier. You don't have the luxury of caring about every stupid little thing, not when you're in the pit. You stop worrying about all those little things your supposed to care about, that you're supposed to do in order to be a 'good person'. Down there, it's just the law of the land. Bad shit happens. Everything ends bloody. It's like having your house on fire, and you have to chose what to save. You decide what matters most, and you protect it viciously. So that's what Sam did. That's what we all did. We were all he had left, and he was the only thing most of us could even remember." She paused, closing her eyes._

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean slammed the door closed behind him as he entered his motel room.

He'd spent the last twelve hours tearing up the city of Seattle, looking for any sign of Sam or the others.

Sam had made it abundantly clear that he wasn't interested in making things any easier for Dean, though, and Dean couldn't help but feel like his brother was already slipping through his fingers.

Sitting down at his laptop, he booted it up, pulling a notebook and a pencil over to himself to write on in the meantime. He started brainstorming, writing down everything he could think of that he had heard Sam or the others say, anything unusual, anything Dean didn't recognize.

He knew Sam had been looking for something or someone, and he had been searching out west.

He knew Sam had some way of keeping track of Dean, perhaps he was having Dean followed, or it was some freaky demon power. And speaking of Demon powers, Sam apparently struck the mother lode when he was dragged to hell, because that little display in the pawnshop must have taken a crap load of mojo and Sam had just smiled like he'd won a game of checkers.

He knew Sam had enemies, powerful enemies. He'd warned Dean repeatedly. Andy had erased Haley and her brothers memories to avoid them giving away information about them, and he indicated their enemies didn't exactly follow Geneva Convention Protocols.

And Sam also had allies, these so-called _siblings_, but Dean wasn't one hundred percent sure he knew exactly how many there were of them. Besides Sam, he'd met five, and Andy had mentioned at least one more.

So seven. That would make sense, considering what the Hoodoo Priestess had said during Dean's reading all those weeks ago.

They all seemed to be demons, all appearing to have varying powers and strengths.

All of Sam's allies that Dean had encountered appeared to be members of the group of children that were stolen seven years ago. He'd traced each one to a news article from the same night Sam had disappeared.

So they were all approximately twenty-two, though Dean hadn't figured out just how exactly they had ages while they were in hell. He wasn't sure, but he didn't think it was supposed to work that way.

But whatever the details, Dean knew at least seven of the missing kids (and demons or not, they were just kids, dammit, and nothing any of them could save would convince him otherwise) had busted out of hell, and now they wanted something.

Dean just wasn't sure if it was for defense or revenge, or both. Dean also still had no idea why they were taken in the first place, or even how the demons chose which kids to steal.

He assumed, in Sam's case, it had something to do with their mother. He knew Max's mother had also died in a nursery fire, but Ava and Jake's mothers were killed when the kids were kidnapped, and according to records, Andy was adopted. Dean hadn't managed to locate any additional records on him yet. Lily's father was killed when she was taken, but as far as Dean knew, her mother had died of cancer when she was seven.

Then there was the fact that Dean was apparently something called "The Righteous Man", whatever the hell that meant. Over and over again, the various kids had mentioned that. But Dean still had no idea what that meant. Nothing about Dean was particularly righteous, in his opinion, excepting, perhaps, his temper.

Jake had said Dean needed to educate himself ASAP, and Dean was beginning to believe him. It obviously wasn't going to be a case of rescuing Sam and riding off into the sunset.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava pursed her lips in displeasure as her Archeri closed in on the last of the demons in the latest nest she had attacked.

The Big Easy was always rife with demonic activity, fueled by the various sects of voodoo and swamp witchcraft. Plenty of the witches down here wouldn't touch a demon with a ten-foot pole, but more than enough would happily sacrifice an orphan for the power to end their enemies.

She'd followed every lead she had stumbled across these last few weeks while working on other projects. Every lead, every whisper of a nest, or any signs of demonic activity in the lower half of the state of Louisiana. Every interesting tidbit she had saved up for a rainy day had been exploited in full.

She'd used every contact, every trick she could think of. She'd maimed, murdered, tortured and lied.

But no matter how many underlings she took out, she couldn't get Azazel's coordinates, or find out any information about any of his previous movements. Wherever he was, whatever children he was infecting, he was keeping the information quiet.

That ruled out the possibility of it being a trap, at least.

Azazel wouldn't have covered his tracks so well, not if he had wanted one of them to come looking for him.

So where the fuck was he?

"Any of that blood yours?" The voice drawled lazily as her brother came into view and she scowled. Andy sauntered casually, shoulders back, comfortable inside his scrubby jeans and ragged hoodie. His sneakers were untied, and he looked like he hadn't brushed his hair since they'd gone topside.

Well, she had known it was only a matter of time before one of them shown up.

She'd been hoping for Anselm, personally.

Even though Andy was her favorite brother (After Sam, of course), with Andy she didn't get away with half of what she did around Anselm.

For all his easy going ways, there was a well honed thread of steel winding through Andy.

"No." She pouted, turning to face him. He walked up close, too close, breaching her personal space, but she didn't back down as he studied her. It wouldn't do too much good anyway, as Andy could see auras.

"And obviously, none of it was dinner, either." Andy said, frowning as he took in his sister's tired appearance, face pale, dark smudges under her eyes. He could feel the tension radiating off of her, and he sighed, glad he'd gotten here before she'd pushed herself to far.

Most of his siblings could be counted on to seek out demon blood if they needed it. While Ava certainly didn't hesitate to go after what she wanted, like Sam, she had a bad habit of getting caught up in what she was doing. She would easily go hours without thinking about feeding, pushing herself dangerously close to the brink of withdrawal before even realizing it.

Sam didn't send Andy to do Ava's job for her. He sent Andy to keep her safe while she did what she needed to do.

"Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink." Gabe said sarcastically from where he was leaning against the far wall and Ava rolled her eyes.

The angel had stuck to her like a leach, and while she knew Sam had wanted her to keep an eye on him, to observe and gather information about him, he was unsettling her somewhat. He had an uncomfortable knack of looking at her like he was actually seeing her, and other than her siblings, no one had truly seen her in a long time.

Her siblings were as dark and damaged as she was.

The angel was something else entirely, and she had half a mind to stab him just for making her feel so off-kilter.

He was nice to look at, though.

"Andy, meet the big, scary, arch angel. Angel, meet my big, scary brother." She said, waving a hand between the two of them dismissively.

Focusing on her brother again, she said "I'm not done here." She gestured to the room full of bodies, the air thick with the copper scent of blood.

He lifted an eyebrow. "You are tonight, Ava." Placing one hand against the side of her face, he used the physical contact to create a low-level psychic link between the two of them, allowing Andy to speak directly into her mind.

"_You're exhausted. You haven't fed, and you've been using too much power. You're dangerously weak right now, and if I can sense it, the angel can too."_

She scowled harder, jerking away. She spoke aloud "Sam said to do whatever it takes, Andy. So that's what I'm doing."

"Huh." Andy grinned at her darkly, leaning forward and purposefully invading her space again, brushing her hair off her face. "He told me the same thing about my job. Just for tonight, Ava. I'll help you destroy Baton Rouge tomorrow."

"I don't need help." She snapped, stepping away from him.

"No, but you love an audience. So I'll bring a book and clap when appropriate. _But not tonight_." His voice was still casual, still easy going, but Ava knew he meant it, could hear the finality in his words and unfortunately, at that moment, she didn't really have the strength to put him in his place.

He was right, she'd gone to long without feeding, surprisingly reluctant to feed in earnest in front of the angel.

It was one thing to have a supply in a flask in her pocket, but with the power she'd been using these past two days, she needed more than could easily be transported. Feeding around Gabe felt vulnerable, though, so she'd simply ignored her body's exhaustion, the tremors that had started to work through her limbs. She knew Andy had taken one look at her and known her game, guessed at her reluctance, leading him to initiate the psychic contact.

Still, she hesitated, unwilling to yield, afraid the screaming in her head would resume if the little girl locked inside of her realized she was stopping, if only for a few hours.

"Ahh, but the fun was just getting started." Gabe had walked over to them, and now he inserted himself into the conversation. His posture was as casual as Andy's, relaxed back as if he were leaning against an imaginary wall, a sarcastic half-smirk dancing across his features.

Ava got the sense that he was feeling Andy out, trying to unravel the puzzle of her easy going, deadly-as-sin brother.

Perhaps she was even more tired than she thought, but she almost got the sense that Gabe was trying to ascertain if Andy was a danger to...her?

Maybe she should go ahead and stab him now, because Gabe had already tried to protect her once already, and Ava would rather cut out her own spleen than be beholden to a fucking angel.

Apparently she wasn't reading it entirely wrong, because Andy narrowed his eyes at the angel, laid back demeanor gone in an instant. In it's place was the boy who'd ripped hearts out for centuries, just to earn library privileges in hell.

Azazel had a sick sense of humor, even for a demon.

"This is none of your business, _Arch Angel_." Andy's voice was still easy, still smooth, but she could feel the power shifting and drawing around him, knew Gabe had to as well.

"Hey!" Gabe held his hands up with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Didn't mean to step on any toes, man. Just figured if the lady didn't want to go, she should stay."

Now Ava could feel power shifting around Gabe as well, and she rolled her eyes.

She should stab both of them, obviously. Surely Sam would understand...

"Are you two fucking serious?" She asked, completely unamused.

Andy smiled lightly, eyes still locked on Gabe's. Ignoring Ava's sarcastic outburst, he spoke directly to the angel, every word as cutting, as precise, as edged steel.

"While you were playing janitor and zoo keeper, forty three kids were dragged to hell. Seventeen of them were girls. Two made it out. Do the math, tree topper. Do not ever, for one moment, think that my sister is a toy for you to play with. We take care of our own." Andy's eyes glittered, with passion or anger or violence, she wasn't sure.

"Understood." The angel said, a shade of what might have been respect tinging his voice, and Ava considered stabbing herself with her own blade just to get away from the pheromones.

Naturally, that was when the vision hit.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean scrubbed his face tiredly, looking at over a dozen pages worth of notes he's taken in the last two hours alone.

The problem wasn't a lack of information, for once.

In this case, the problem was an overabundance of facts, figures, legends, interpretations. Genesis, Revelations, Old Testament, New Testament. Judaism, Christianity, Catholic, Baptist, Voodoo, Hoodoo, Witchcraft.

Every flavor of fanatic had something to say on the subject of "Righteousness" and most of it sounded like shit to Dean.

He needed help.

He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled down to Bobby's number.

"Dean." Relief dripped from the older man's one word greeting. "What the hell's been going on, boy?"

"I don't know if I even believe everything that's happened, Bobby. I feel like I'm losing my mind." Dean sighed.

Bobby snorted. "Well, that's about the sanest thing you could say, so you might as well tell me the rest."

Nearly an hour later, Dean had recounted most of what had happened. He'd kept a few things private, like his two dreams (now, knowing what Sam could do, he wondered if the first dream had really been just a dream, or if it had been another instance of Sam trying to communicate with him).

"The Righteous Man, huh?" Bobby asked slowly, and Dean could nearly hear the gears in his head moving into overdrive.

"It always seems to come back to that." Dean agreed heavily.

"Well, there's no use staying there." Bobby declared. "If Sam wanted to talk some more, he would have shown up by now. Don't reckon he'd have much trouble finding you wherever you are, from the sounds of it. Head my way. I've got books with information older than anything you'll find on the web."

"I don't know, Bobby. I drove all the way out here to find Sam, and I swore I wouldn't leave without him. Heading your way feels like retreat." Dean hedged, unwilling to leave the last place where he and Sam had both been at the same time, even if it had only been for a few moments. It was pathetic, perhaps, but that was how he felt.

"Dean, for all Sam's protests, he or one of his always seems to show back up. Maybe he's protesting a little too much. Try to meet him on your turf, this time." Bobby suggested.

"You mean your turf?" Dean asked, amused despite himself, picturing Singer Salvage.

"Boy, you think I buy that nasty brand of beer you like for myself?" Bobby scolded. "This place is as much your home turf as anywhere is. Might as well make use of it. We'll hit the books. You said it yourself, if this is a battle of wits, you're currently unarmed. Get your head together, then get a fresh start."

'Yeah." Dean agreed, closing his eyes and breathing out deeply. "Yeah, you're right, Bobby. I know you're right. This thing with Sam and Dad has me so messed up I don't know if I'm coming or going."

"You're going to get in your car and you're gonna come to my place, idjit." Bobby said firmly, and Dean laughed.

"Will do, Bobby. I'm on my way."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"Sam!" Meg's voice sounded...alarmed, and that was enough to put Sam on red alert.

Meg was sarcastic as hell, but she didn't normally do 'upset', so whatever she had to say couldn't be good.

"What is it?" He asked calmly.

He'd learned, over the years, that the ones around him responded better if he remained calm. Azazel ruled through fear, Sam was different. Sam wasn't afraid to rip the lungs out of someone if the case called for it, but that wasn't the tactic he used with his siblings. They followed him out of a loyalty greater than anything all of Azazel's scare tactics put together could ever engender.

"It's your brother." She said.

"Jake?" Sam guessed, basing the information on the fact that Jake was currently in charge of the search for the colt and he knew that Azazel's men were searching for it also.

"Wrong brother." Her words were low and fast, and she had switched to Enor'kaet, another sign that she was upset.

"Who?" Sam said commandingly, ignoring to tendril of unease unfurling in his stomach.

Demons didn't get worried. They got even.

"Dean. Azazel's decided he's too much of a threat. He's sent Rainier after him. He's supposed to possess him if he can, or kill him if he can't. Either way, he's hoping your father will be so thrown off his game that he slips up."

Sam cursed quietly, switching back in forth between half a dozen languages, using words Meg hadn't heard topside in decades.

"Glad to see you put Daddy's library to good use. Want are we going to do?" Meg demanded.

"You're not going to do anything. I'm going to go after Dean. Play it right, and Azazel will simply think I was tipped off in a vision. Be careful. If you're right and he's getting suspicious, he may start feeding you bad information to try and catch us out." Sam warned.

"You don't have to explain politics to me, Sam. I've spent a lot more years at this dinner table than you. Go get Dean. We need him topside." She hung up, and Sam put his phone back in his pocket.

Taking Dean's amulet out of his pocket, he held it up by the cord, concentrating until it began to swing, acting as a pendulum.

He doubted Dean even realized it was gone yet. Sam had nicked it on a whim when he'd been examining Dean's bloody face. He couldn't say why, exactly, other than the sudden urge he'd had to take it, to hold it in his hands. The way it had looked, laying on Dean's chest, glinting in the dull light, had struck a chord in him, and he'd given in to the urge to...borrow it.

Now, as the amulet's swing increased in momentum, he was glad he did. The amulet was clearly swinging in one direction now, and Sam mused on it for a moment. Mostly east, only a little southerly.

"Bobby's place." Sam mused.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean was nearly twelve hours into the fifteen hour trip (not that it ever took him the full fifteen hours) when it happened.

The two lane county highway was empty except for the Impala, had been that way for the last hour or so.

When the eighteen wheeler came up behind the Impala, Dean didn't think much of it, as big rigs and homeless hunters were the only two likely occupants of a road like this at two in the morning.

That theory kinda flew out the window when the truck rammed Dean from behind, however.

Dean had glanced up, looking in his review just in time to realize what was going to happen, but unable to do anything but take his foot off the gas and steer as best he could as his car literally flew forward, up and off the road just as Dean was maneuvering a turn in the blacktop. The car flipped completely over twice, coming to rest right side up, the windows broken, the frame a twisted mess, and Dean, dazed and bloody in the driver's seat.

He blacked out for a few seconds, and was just starting to come back around when he heard the sound of a door opening. Not his door, thank god, but close.

His hand scrabbled weakly on the latch of the seat belt, thankful he'd put it on for once, though now he needed it off, ASAP because he doubted the man walking to him from the truck was looking to help him.

Somehow, this didn't feel like a friendly-fire incident.

He managed to undo his seat belt, but his door was smashed in, and Dean's legs didn't seem to be working too well just yet.

The older-looking man, in cowboy boots and a Stetson was closing in, near enough now for Dean to see his eyes flash to black for a second.

Well, wasn't he good and fucked.

"Winchester. I've been looking for you." The man (demon) said, and Dean snarled, flipping him the bird.

Both startled when another voice jumped into the conversation, Dean's heart stuttering when he recognized to familiar tone from behind the Demon.

"Funny, and here I thought, all this time, that you were looking for me. Really, Rainier, my feelings are hurt."

The demon (Rainier?) smiled darkly. Turning around, he faced his new opponent.

"Well, well well. If it isn't the little boy king. Father's rather cross with you, Sammy." He said, drawing a blade that shone so brightly in the moonlight that for a moment, Dean squinted as he tried to look at it.

"How many times do I have to tell everyone. It's Sam." Sam's voice, if anything, sounded bored, but Dean could sense the danger all around him, and he renewed his struggle to open his door.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava didn't have visions often. At least, not as often as Sam, anyway. They'd haunted her, stealing what little rest she was afforded when she had first been brought to hell. Their intensity, coupled with her exhaustion and Azazel's torture, had nearly ended her, nearly brought her to the brink of insanity.

Gradually, the frequency had faded, though the intensity never did. As her other powers grew, the visions faded to the background. Sam managed to ride his out rather stoically, but hers always hit like a fucking freight train, at least if she was awake, anyway.

They usually only came now when she was over-tired, or weakened in some other way. They tended to take advantage of her when she least had the wherewithal to withstand them, and this one was no exception.

"Gah.." She cried through clenched teeth, not scared but fairly pissed off by the rotten timing.

She was practically helpless when this happened, and she hated that. If she'd had any strength left, she would have pushed the vision down, held it off until she could ride it out in secure privacy somewhere.

She sensed, more than saw Andy come to stand between her and the angel, and then she was gone, helpless to fight back the onslaught of images.

She came back slowly, black sparkles dancing across her vision and her stomach roiled.

"Ava!" Andy's voice was still mild in her ears, but the vision must have been longer, or more physical than she had realized, because while Andy had been standing up, covering her when she blacked out, he was now crouched over her, her upper body half-pulled into his lap. His hand was holding her chin firmly, holding her face towards his, and she blinked disjointedly.

Gabe had crouched also, though he had been careful to maintain several feet of space between them, and that was probably was Andy's teeth weren't in his throat right now, Angel or not.

"Ava!" Andy commanded again lowly, and she hissed as the words flowed across her mind, pulling back instinctively from what amounted to her name being yelled directly into her psyche.

"Shit." Andy cursed quietly when he realized what he'd done. "Talk to me, Ava. What's so hot you have to have a freaking seizure over it?"

That would explain why every part of her body hurt, Ava though sourly, She pushed herself up to a sitting position with a wincing snarl.

"We got problems..." She said tiredly, not even realizing she had switched to Enor'kaet.

Gabe scrunched his nose at the bastardization of his mother tongue, but he remained silent.

"Big brother's going after Dean. Sam's going after him." She added.

"You mean Rainier?" Andy asked, brows lowering in a frown. "That's not great, but what's the big bad? Sam's a match for him, and he has the demon blade."

"But Rainier's toy is better." Ava said bitterly, using Andy's shoulder to push herself up. "Someone on Team Wings is cheating. Rainier's got an Angel Blade."

Andy whistled lowly. "Angel blade trumps Kurdish Steel." He agreed, glancing speculatively over at Gabe.

He held up his hands. "Again, don't look at me. I'm in WitPro, and my shiny is right here." He held up his own Angel Blade in demonstration, and Andy nodded curtly.

They could deal with the who later.

Right now their king was about to go into battle practically unarmed, and he didn't even know it.

"He needs my blade." Ava said, fighting not to waiver where she stood. Visions took too much out of her, cost far too much for her to recover easily, and she hadn't had much left when this one hit anyway.

"And just how are we going to do that?" Andy asked fiercely. "I can't teleport that far, Ava. You and Sam are the only ones with anywhere near that range. And even if I could, I couldn't find Sam on the first try. Your vision could be enough to use as a focus, but you aren't anywhere near strong enough. Not even at full strength, and you're nowhere near it right now. He's half-way across the county."

"You're thinking of it as a obstacle." Ava said sarcastically. "Let's look at it as a challenge. I'll do the jump. Just...give me a boost." she finished tiredly.

"Uhh...no." Andy said in disbelief. "At best, that's two jumps, you can't take me with you, and then there's the little problem of you stroking out."

"Sam. Angel Blade. Let's go." Ava said determinedly.

"Ava, you'll die." Andy said desperately.

"Everything ends bloody, Andy. Let's do this shit." She replied, with a careless, almost carefree smile.

She was so tired she could barely feel her arms and legs, and if they were going to do this, they should do it while she could still hold the picture of Sam in her mind, to direct her jump.

It was looking like a damn good day to die.

At least the fucking screaming in her head would stop.

"Not to interrupt, but I might be able to be of assistance. I mean, hello? Arch Angel." Gabe, largely forgotten until now, interjected then.

Ava turned disbelieving eyes on him.

"Oh, hell no." She said, exhausted. "No, no, no no. NO."

"Yes." Andy spoke over her. "And if you hurt one hair on her head, I'll tear your grace out myself and choke your vessel with it."

"You can even come with." Gabe offered, with a sarcastic smile. "All she has to do is hold the picture of our location in her mind."

"Why would you help us?" Ava demanded, and Andy watched him speculatively, waiting for his reply.

"I'm just that kind of guy." Gabe answered. "And I think I'd like to meet this King of yours."

"Don't say we didn't warn you." Andy replied. "In a room full of sheep, Ava and I are lions. In a room full of lions, Sam's a fucking dragon."

"I'll remember that." Gabe said with a grin that didn't reach his eyes.

"Let's go."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam cursed silently in his mind when he realized that Rainier was armed with an Angel Blade.

That certainly made things more interesting.

The two circled each other, having fought each other enough in the pit to be well versed in each others strengths and weaknesses. Rainier was older than Sam, but Sam had literally been built for power, and they were evenly enough matched.

Except for that damn blade.

Sam didn't have time to trap him or exorcise him, so he'd have to do it the hard way, disarming him and then using either of the blades on him.

His own blade was old, forged by the Kurds and blessed long ago by one of the few Catholic Saints to wield true power, enabling the dagger to destroy demons.

But Rainier's weapon was far more powerful. Angel blades were the most powerful weapons Sam knew of, designed to kill demons or angels alike.

Rainier struck first, as Sam knew he would. They continued circling, striking and parrying, each landing glancing, stinging blows that, while not fatal, hurt badly.

Sam was as careful as he could be in his movements, conserving what energy he could. The jump here had been long distance.

And he hadn't had a chance to feed before he'd left.

The fight continued, and despite his best intentions, Sam knew he was starting to flag. His strikes were more precise, better thought out, better aimed, but Rainier not only had the benefit of the angel blade, but his demon strength wasn't dependent on a blood supply like Sam's was. Sam was already stronger than when he'd made it topside, but he'd nearly reached his limit.

"Sam!" The familiar voice called out, and Sam executed a neat somersault, gaining some distance from his opponent. He glanced quickly over with surprised eyes to see Andy, Ava, and what Sam guessed to be an arch angel, if the burning in his psychic eye and Rainier's reaction were anything to go by.

He really couldn't leave Ava alone for ten minutes. To think, he'd been worried about her bringing home a tiger.

Sam neatly caught the blade Andy tossed to him, turning back to Rainier with a dark grin. "This should be a little more interesting." He snarled, watching as Rainier's eyes widened, going from Sam to Andy and Ava where they stood by the herald.

Rainier's lips curled back from his lips. "Slumming around, now, Sammy?"

"At least my blade wasn't a present from Daddy." Sam taunted, and Rainier lunged forward again.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean tried using his shoulder to force open his door, but it remained stuck fast. His ears were still ringing, and blood was dripping into one eye from a cut on his forehead. He was pretty sure he had a concussion, the world kept graying out for a moment, but he didn't have time to worry about that.

Sam was fighting that Demon, Rainier or whatever the hell he was called, and Dean needed to get to him.

The fight had moved away from the Impala, and Dean wondered if Sam had done it on purpose, to keep Dean out of the line of fire. Whatever the reason, Dean was now straining to see through the fractured back window as the battle proceeded.

He could catch glimpses of Sam as he ducked and weaved, and a strange feeling of pride worked it's way up Dean's chest as he watched as Sam fought with the fluid grace of a striking snake.

There was no doubt in Dean's mind.

Sam was deadly.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Andy tossed the blade to his brother, and then turned, in one smooth movement, to catch Ava as her knees started to give out on her. He seemed to realize the fact almost before she did. The teleport via Angel-Power had been...unpleasant, for Andy, and it appeared to have hit Ava even harder, but at least she was conscious. She was pale, but conscious.

"Go...get Dean out. Sam can't concentrate on the fight if he's trying to shield him." She said through gritted teeth, as waves of pain pounded through her head.

Andy hesitated, knowing she was right, but also knowing that Sam was just as likely to be worrying about Ava. Sam had looked over for only a split second, but Andy was confident that was all he needed to assess the situation.

Gabe knelt beside them.

"That's a righteous man." He said lowly, looking into their faces. "What the hell are you playing at?"

"Warned you." Andy said, trying to look into Ava's eyes, but they kept fluttering closed. "Dean Winchester's righteous, and Sam's his brother. Sam's also our brother."

"It gets complicated..." Ava mumbled tiredly.

"Stay with me, Ava." Andy commanded, doing his best to triage his sister while watching Sam's battle with Rainier. Andy couldn't tell, the fight was moving too quickly, but he though Sam looked tired too.

This wasn't good. Ava had been right to make them come.

"Go get the brother. I'll watch her." Gabe said, watching the scene before him, eyes drinking in all the details.

Andy wondered if he was finally starting to grasp how serious things had gotten while he'd been hiding out.

Andy frowned, but nodded. Gabe crouched behind Ava, easily supporting her with one hand.

Andy ran over to the Impala. Dean was bleeding, but alert enough, struggling to force open his door. Andy braced his feet and yanked, putting some power into it. The door squealed in protest as it reluctantly opened, and Dean nearly toppled out in surprise.

Andy caught him by the shoulder and helped him to his feet.

"How the hell are you always popping the fuck up?" Dean snarled, shaking his head to clear it as he gained his feet.

"You're welcome." Andy said drily, already moving back to his sister and the angel. "Come on. Sam's tiring. We need to get out of here."

"Sam okay?" Dean asked, stopping in his tracks.

"Not for much longer. Let's move." Andy said, urging Dean forward.

Up ahead, Dean could make out a blond man he'd never seen before, crouched over a girl he unfortunately had.

"What's she doing here?" He demanded, dislike dripping from his words.

"Saving Sam's life." Andy said. "Stay here."

Dean wanted to protest, but the world started to gray out again at that moment, and the next thing he knew, his ass was on the ground next to Ava's while the blonde man stared at him in amusement.

"They're a busy bunch." He offered, with a smirk.

"Tell me about it." Dean muttered.

Andy ran full out towards Sam, diving into a rolling tumble to to take up position on Sam's flank. Sam tossed him the Demon Blade, and then, moving as one, they spread out to surround Rainier.

Rainier didn't give them the chance to attack, though. With a snarl, his vessel's body tensed, and oily black smoke shout out of his mouth, streaming into the night.

Almost instantly, Sam's shoulders slumped a little, and Andy spared a moment to be thankful for Ava's vision. She had been right, Sam might very easily been killed tonight.

Almost immediately, Sam turned and started back to Ava and Dean.

"Status?" He demanded, as they got closer.

"Dean has a concussion, Ava's was just exhausted, though she got slapped with a vision so hard she seized, so I'm not sure that's the only damage now."

Sam nodded curtly, kneeling down to glance quickly at Dean's gray face, than moving other to Ava. He hissed quietly when he brushed his fingers over her forehead.

"He needs a hospital. She doesn't." Sam said, meaning clear.

A hospital couldn't help her, but if they got her somewhere quiet, Sam could.

Sam glanced around. "We're less than half an hour from Sioux Falls." He announced, pulling out his cell phone.

Gabe watched it all silently.

"What are you doing?" Andy asked.

"Calling a tow." Sam murmured.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Bobby glanced at the clock again nervously.

In any way _legal_, Dean should still be a few hours out.

Bobby had never known the boy to actually drive the speed limit, though. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, but he was wound up tighter than a cat on a hot tin roof.

His mobile rang from where he had set in on his desk, half-buried by an overflowing pile of books. Bobby pushed them aside, ignoring some as they fell to the ground. He frowned at the display, not recognizing the number.

"Singer Salvage." He answered cautiously.

He nearly dropped the phone when a voice he had honestly never expected to hear again said-

"Bobby."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: And here is the next chapter of ATPM. Thanks everyone for all the awesome reviews! Things are starting to move quickly now. Anyone want to take a guess as to what episode I'm about to re-work?**

**Reviews are love!**

**As Always, **

_**EverReader**_

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Sixteen**

"**Here There Be Dragons"**

"_And when it was no longer enough for Sam to just watch, to simply choose the victims, Alistair pressed the knife into Sam's hands. Another day, another choice, another tattered piece of Sam's humanity. You might say everything in hell is high stakes. But Sam didn't even hesitate. He cut into his victim and Azazel laughed and we lived another day. And Azazel did it again and again and again. But Sam kept us safe, he always chose us. Then, one day, I was standing next to Sam, and he guided my hand as I carved my freedom into another's skin. And do you know what, Dean? It felt good." She actually snarled, straining against the ropes that bound her._

_Her eyes were lit from within, and a fire burned inside her words, scorched across Dean's skin as they tumbled from her lips._

"_Every soul down there earned it. By their choices, by their actions or by making a deal. Every single soul down there had a choice but us. We were the only innocents in hell. No other children in the history of mankind have ever grown up in hell, been raised, in hell. So yeah, it felt good. We were the only ones who never got a damn choice. Heaven turned a blind eye, Dean. We were forsaken. So when Hell gave us a choice, we took it. And we were good at it. We defeated the dark by taking ownership of it."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Bobby watched over his sleeping charge protectively.

The hospital room was dim, quiet except for the various beeps and pings of medical equipment echoing through the halls.

Fortunately, Dean required nothing more than an oxygen cannula in his nose, an IV and a heart monitor, the last one mainly a precaution.

Dean had been unconscious when Bobby arrived at the scene of the wreck. The trucker who seemed to have struck Dean's car was also there, babbling about rotten eggs and talking, black smoke. The EMT's had taken one look at him and loaded him in beside Dean.

Dean's outlook was positive, at least. His left wrist had a green stick fracture which the doctors had casted while he slept off the effects of a minor concussion. Dean was resting peacefully in the hospital bed, and the Doctors expected him to wake up any time.

Bobby's tired mind started to wander, going back to the same few moments of time he'd already replayed a hundred times since it'd happened.

He'd talked to Sam.

He'd really, truly talked to Sam.

He'd never admitted it to Dean, but Bobby had spent the last seven years certain that Sam was dead and gone. Dean had refused to see the obvious, had needed the search for his brother to keep him grounded, to give him focus.

But Bobby had been a hunter for a long, long time now.

He knew better than to believe in happy endings.

He'd been as shocked as anyone when Dean had called, babbling about Sam and Demons and lost kids. Though he was loathe to admit it now, a part of him had simply been humoring Dean, afraid that Dean was wandering dangerous close to the edge of a breakdown, pushed too far by the disappearance of his father.

But each time Dean had talked about the lost kids, about Sam, he'd provided Bobby with more and more tidbits of puzzling, tantalizing information. Bobby had spent the last few weeks researching the things Dean had been mentioning, and slowly, a picture was starting to emerge.

Still, he never could have been prepared for that moment when he'd answered his phone and heard that voice, the voice of the man who'd once been a boy Bobby had cheered for a soccer games that John had been too drunk and bitter to attend.

He'd patched Sam up as often as Dean when they had been little, and a part of Bobby had died when he'd thought Sam had, whenever Bobby would think about the bright, curious little boy who'd climb in Bobby's lap and demand 'big kid stories' instead of babyish picture books. The mental image of all that life and and curiosity and kindness leaving those too-large hazel eyes had haunted his dreams for years.

But still, he'd accepted Sam's death as well as he could, and now his whole world felt like it was spinning out of control, because if the man Bobby had spoken to last night on the phone really was Sam Winchester, then Bobby and John and just about everyone else in the kid's life had given up on him just when he'd needed them the most.

Well, everyone but his mule-headed older brother.

Sam had been gone from the scene of the accident by the time Bobby arrived. There was no sign of him or any of his supposed siblings, and if Bobby hadn't spoken to him himself, he wasn't sure even Dean could have made him believe it.

Sam Winchester was back.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam studied his sister intently, a dark frown gracing his brow.

Ava lay still, pale and quiet on her bed, breathing shallowly. He'd hoped getting some demon's blood into her would have been enough, but Andy was right. She'd pushed herself too far, and then her vision had pushed her over the edge.

The angel being forced to help transport her and Andy had merely been icing on the cake. Andy had described the experience as "unpleasant", to Ava's vulnerable mind it must have been agonizing.

Still, the angel's actions had undoubtedly saved his sister's life, as Sam had no doubt she would have brought that blade to him, even if it meant dying at his feet.

He sat on the edge of the bed beside her sleeping form.

Placing his hands gently on either side of her face, he closed his eyes and concentrated, doing his best to close out the psychic commotion her vulnerable mind was having difficulty shielding itself from.

Angels, demons, humans, all gave off 'waves' of psychic energy all the time.

Ava, like Sam was more sensitive than most, hence her ability to have visions and like him, her mind had developed natural defenses against the psychic white noise, allowing her to function. Part of her problem right now was she was too weak to shield herself, and her mind was being battered from all sides, like a ship wreck victim being thrown against a rocky shore.

She had physical injuries too, from the seizure, as well as the tell tale symptoms of withdrawal. He'd made it a point to get some blood into her right away, but it wasn't acting as the cure-all it often did for the arch demons.

"Can you heal her?" The angel asked curiously, and Sam slanted a look at him through heavy lidded eyes.

He wondered what it was about them, Ava in particular, that the angel found so interesting.

Was Gabriel simply bored? Was he feeling guilty? Was he gathering intel to take back to Michael?

"I can...assist her in healing herself. Her mind, anyway. Physically, though, she's taken some damage." Sam conceded somewhat reluctantly. He couldn't afford to give up the chance to study the angel, but neither was he willing to risk Ava in her vulnerable state right now.

Sam hadn't spent half an eternity protecting his siblings from the Demons just to lose them to the Angels.

Sam looked over at Andy. "Is Anselm coming?" He asked.

Andy nodded, eyes flicking back and forth between his king and the arch angel.

"Yeah. He's bringing Max, but you know what that means..." Andy trailed off, purposefully flicking his eyes to the angel again and Sam nodded his understanding.

Lily might not take to their house guest too well.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Bobby jerked upright, wakened by the quiet click as the hospital door swung inward. He tensed, reaching smoothly for his knife, but relaxed when he saw it was simply the pretty blonde nurse who'd checked on Dean a few hours ago. Glancing tiredly at his watch, he saw it was nearly five-thirty in the morning. Soon the rest of the hospital would be waking up, bustling with activity as doctors made their morning rounds, nurses came around checking on vitals, and aids came around with carts of breakfast.

"How's our patient?" The nurse asked, smiling brightly, but speaking softly.

"Not a peep out of him." Bobby grumbled, stretching.

"Okay, I'll come back in another forty-five minutes or so. Oh, by the way, a man just left this at the desk for him. Can you give it to him when he wakes up?" She asked, handing Bobby a book-sized package wrapped in brown paper.

"More than happy too." Bobby did his best to smile congenially while his mind raced through the possibilities of just who exactly even knew Dean was here to leave him a package?

Sam?

The nurse had barely closed the door when Bobby ripped the paper off the parcel, letting out a low whistle as he recognized the brown leather bound book he held.

Not Sam then.

Eyes widening as the implications of the nurse's words sunk in, he jumped up, moving as quickly down the hall way as his old bones would allow. He barely made it out to the parking lot in time to see the large black truck pealing out, tires squealing.

"Dammit, John, ya idjit!" Bobby yelled, shaking his fist at the retreating vehicle. "Dean needs you!"

Breathing heavily, he started back in, ignoring the startled looks of the people around him.

Just another one of John Winchester's messes for Bobby Singer to try and salvage.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Max walked quickly, Anselm and Lily at his heels as he entered the house Sam had hurriedly claimed as their base of operations when Ava became ill.

He could feel Lily's gentle presence hovering at the back of his mind, but he didn't have time to reassure her.

Taking the steps two at a time, he gained the upper hall and strode unerringly to the room on the end.

Sam was there, along with Andy, and of, course, Ava.

She lay limply on the bed, and with a glance Max realized that her shields must be in tatters if Sam was having to use physical contact to extend his own to her while her body struggled to heal.

"What happened?" He asked, not because Anselm hadn't filled him in, but because he wanted to hear it again, in Sam's words while he evaluated their sister.

"Exhaustion, withdrawal, vision, seizure, teleportation." Sam listed the complaints off curtly, and Max noted how tired he looked also.

"How long has she been unconscious?" He asked, rolling up his sleeves.

"She was in and out at first, but she's been down for several hours now. We managed to get some red into her, but she's not bouncing back." Andy said lowly.

"You're going to have to let me check her out." Max spoke calmly, not issuing an order to his king, simply stating what he needed in order to work.

Sam's lips thinned. "She's pretty raw, Max. I'm afraid it's gonna trigger another vision or seizure, or both."

Max chewed his lip for a second. "Okay." He said decisively. "Everyone but Sam out, way out. Lily, you're pretty loud even on a good day, so you might have to go outside."

The others traded glances, eyes flickering to back to Sam light filings to a magnet.

He nodded once, and immediately they filed out, Lily last, trading a concerned look with her brother.

She knew how much Max hated using this particular gift.

Azazel had been endlessly amused that Max, the kid who'd abhorred physical touch more than any of the others save Lily, had developed a gift that could assist in healing.

But of course, like the double edged sword all demon gifts were, it required touch.

Sam lowered his hands reluctantly, moving smoothly out of the way, allowing Max to take his place.

Max pushed down his unease and laid gently hands on his sisters face, the warmth from Sam's hands still lingering on her cool skin.

Max closed his eyes, willing his mind to look in other ways.

While Lily could have read Ava's thoughts, Max could actually see her mind, where some areas were bright with over activity, and others dark and silent.

And he could see the damage.

He opened his eyes, and looked at Sam. "I'm going to need a lot of blood." He said simply.

"How bad is it?" Sam said calmly.

"She's got a bleed in the same area that creates her mental shields. And you're right, there's too much stimuli coming and going. She's gonna seize again if we don't get it fixed." Max confirmed solemnly.

"Can you do it?" Sam asked, voice and face intense.

"Yeah." Max said with confidence. "But she and I are both going to need serious refueling."

"I'll send Anselm shopping." Sam said with a dark, humorless smirk, and left to go and get Max what he had requested.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Meg shrunk back against the library wall as Rainier screamed again, voice echoing desperately off the room's high, vaulted ceiling.

Daddy was angry.

"One simple task, son. Is that too much to ask?" Azazel said calmly, as he waved his hand again, causing Meg's writhing brother to shriek again from where he lay on the carpet.

"It wasn't my fault, I swear." Rainier half-pleaded, half-sobbed. "We were wrong about the angels. One showed up when Sam did, right after I attacked Dean."

"What did you say?" Azazel's voice had dropped dangerously low, and Meg pressed herself even further back into the bookshelf.

"The seven have an angel on their side. Sam has an angel blade." Rainier whimpered, muscles still jerking and spasming in pain.

"Isn't that...unexpected." Azazel said musingly.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean awoke with a groan, blinking eyelids heavy with sleep.

"Dean, you waking up, boy?" He heard the familiar voice ask, and he frowned drowsily.

"Bobby? That you?" He mumbled, blinking a bit more as the room around him started to come into focus.

"What...happened? Where'm I?" He said, testing his body experimentally, one limb at a time. He frowned in consternation when he realized his left wrist had been immobilized.

"Well, Dean, what do you remember?" Bobby hedged, and Dean's eyes flew to his, trying to read his expression.

His head hurt, and his thoughts were scattered like autumn leaves, but slowly things were starting to come back to him.

"Umm..I was coming to your place. For research. And um...a truck. A truck hit me from behind, Christ, my baby..." Suddenly, he sat up straight.

"Bobby, Sam was there. Is he here? Did you see him?" Dean was practically falling out of the hospital bed in his excitement and Bobby reached over and helped him re-situate himself on the mattress.

"No." Bobby said slowly, "But I spoke to him. He called me, out of the blue, and said you needed help. Gave me your location. I called 9-1-1 and headed your way, but he was gone by the time I got there. The man who hit you was there, babbling like an idiot about sulfur and smoke, so I'm guessing Sam wasn't the only demon there."

"You're right, the dude who hit me was possessed by a demon, Sam called him... Raymond? Rainier? Things were kind of blurry. What happened to my wrist? And why the hell does my chest burn?" Dean reached up with his good hand to rub at the spot below his collar bone, but Bobby's hand stopped him.

"Don't scratch it." He scolded.

Dean looked at him, confused. "Don't scratch at what?" He asked.

"You got a green stick fracture on your left wrist, a concussion and two stitches on your forehead. You also have some interesting new body art, which I'm hoping is a souvenir from your brother."

"Bobby, what the hell are you saying? What did Sam do?" Dean asked, frightened.

Ripping out his IV, he pushed himself unsteadily out of the bed. He stumbled over to the mirror over the rooms sink, yanking down his hospital gown.

Two squares of gauze were taped to his chest, one just below his collorbone, one several inches lower, hugging his ribcage to one side.

Ripping off the gauze, he stared at his skin. The markings weren't quite burns, not quite tattoos.

"Are those brands?" Dean asked, incredulous. They hurt, a gentle, pulsing ache, but not anything like a he'd ever felt before. If Sam had burned those into his flesh, his nerve endings should be screaming in protest, but instead, these looked old already, as if they'd happened weeks ago, and not days.

"Best the doctors can tell, they are. Nearly completely healed, third degree burns. All the way down into your muscle tissue. Your wrist had them confused too. Said the break was perfectly aligned, but looked two weeks old already."

"What do they mean?'" Dean asked, still fixated on the marks on his chest.

"That one," Bobby said, gesturing to the upper brand, "Is a pretty handy little picture if I do say so myself. I've seen hunters ink themselves voluntarily with different versions of it, though I've never seen this particular variation before. It's a ward, a charm against demon possession. Locks the black-eyed bastards out. I wear something similar." Bobby said, fishing a charm Dean had never noticed before out of his shirt.

Leaning forward, Dean studied the coin, noting several similarities to the mark on his chest. Bobby was right though, while Bobby's charm seemed fairly straight-forward, Dean's seemed like the souped up version.

"Okay. Okay, that makes sense. Sam thought the demon was coming after to me to possess me, so he locked him out. Kinda wish he would have asked permission, but that probably wasn't too high on his to-do list." Dean said, nodding, trying to assimilate the over-load of information as quickly as his pounding head would allow.

"What about the other one?" Dean said suddenly, straining to see it better, as the angle made it difficult. It was several inches larger, and it looked to contain quite a bit of writing in a language he didn't recognize.

Bobby hesitated again, seemingly uncomfortable with the information he was about to reveal.

"Well...best I can tell, that makes you...invisible...I'd guess you could say." He muttered.

"Invisible to Demons?" Dean perked up, liking the sound of that.

"Not...exactly." Bobby mumbled, Dean leaning forward to catch his words. "That language is old, Dean, so old I had to decipher it into ancient Greek, then to Latin, then back to Greek again to to make sure I had it right. That there is meant to hide you from...angels."

"Angels." Dean said, face blank. "Bobby, there are no such things as angels. If there were, I probably would have killed one by now. Have you ever seen an angel? No. Because they don't exist." He finished sarcastically.

"Well," Bobby retorted angrily, "Your brother sure seems to think so. And there's more." He sighed, looking at Dean with apologetic eyes.

"This was left for you at the front desk."

Dean's eyes widened as he recognized John's journal. Looking up at Bobby with wounded eyes, he said-

"Dad was here? And he just left?"

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"Meg, darling?" Azazel called, his voice light and threatening all at once.

She stepped forward, careful to show no emotions, to keep her face completely impassive.

On the floor in front of her, Rainier's old vessel was nothing more than a bleeding pile of meat. Azazel had finally allowed him to abandon it, but not before making his displeasure...obvious.

"Meg, Honey, I'm going to need you to clean up your brother's mess. He seems certain that Dean Winchester is being protected by an angel. You've always been better at playing human. Follow him, interact with him if you can. If you do it right, he'll never have any idea you're not human. Any angels watching him will know right away, though. If one shows up, report back to me immediately. We need to get to the bottom of this mess."

Meg nodded. "Yes, Sir. Do you want me to kill him?" She asked.

"No, darling. I've changed my mind. If the angels are interested in Dean Winchester, than I may have some big plans for him after all."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam stood in the living room of the house they had taken over, looking at the jugs of demon blood Lily and Anselm had brought back. Max had already gone through one just on his own. He was the only one of them whose powers came even close to a healing ability.

Demon blood didn't exactly lend itself to kind, helpful talents.

But the work was exhausting and demanding. Max had finished up now, and was resting in the room beside Ava's. Sam nodded for Lily to take Max up another jug of blood, and Andy frowned.

"Sam, we're going to need more for Ava, then. You want me to go find some?" He questioned.

"Not yet." Sam said simply, without elaborating, and Andy's brows raised as he caught Sam's meaning. His lips thinned in displeasure, but he didn't breathe a word of disagreement out loud.

Sam was the king, after all.

Sam picked up one of the remaining two jugs of Demon's blood, twisting off the cap and raising it to his lips. Tilting his head back, he drained it easily in just a few moments.

Picking up the second one, he turned to go upstairs. "Everyone stay close tonight." He ordered. "We'll convene tomorrow, after we've rested."

Sam finished the trek upstairs, heading into Ava's room.

She looked a little better now, not quite so pale and lifeless, but she was still unconscious. Max had repaired enough of the damage to allow her body to start repairing itself now, but it was still going to take time and energy.

Energy she didn't have just then, and Sam was unsure if any of them had time to be injured.

He sat down at the head of her bed, pulling her upper body into his lap, propping her up. Her lashes blinked slowly.

"Tell me we kicked Rainier's ass back to the pit." She murmured tiredly, eyes closing again.

"He ran away like the spineless piece of shit he is." Sam offered conversationally, as he reached into his pocket and drew out his knife.

Ava's eye's blinked open again. "Sam?" She said questioningly, noting the blade.

"I need you up and fighting fit, princess." Sam said, voice neutral as he cut into his own wrist without so much as a twitch. Ava's eyes widened.

"No, Sam. You don't need to." She protested softly, struggling to sit up.

"Do as I say." Sam said, voice brooking no argument. Her eyes flashed to his, unhappy, but she obediently allowed him to place his bleeding wrist to her mouth.

This wasn't the first time Sam had helped one of them this way. Sam's blood was stronger, and his body handled withdrawal better than most of them.

Azazel had often pushed them to their limits in the pit, refusing to allow them to feed for days at a time, trying to weed out the weakest children. Sam had saved his siblings numerous times over the years by doing this very thing.

They all hated it, though. Hated having to take from Sam, hating being needy. Hated being reminded that they still had weaknesses.

Having to once again cause Sam pain in order to survive.

"I gotta tell you kids, you have one twisted family dynamic, and that means something, coming from me." Gabe's voice was loud in the quiet room as he materialized, and Sam felt his sister tense.

He allowed her to remove her mouth, casually wrapping his wrist in a bandana he'd had in his pocket for just this reason. It would be healed in a hour or two, but he didn't really want to make a mess in the meantime.

Ignoring the angel, he snagged a glass off the nightstand and poured some demon's blood from the remaining jug into it, handed it to Ava with a curt "Drink."

She scowled at the angel, but took the glass from Sam, draining it carelessly. He refilled it again, and she repeated the action. Twice more, and Sam finally finished the last glass himself.

All the while, the angel watched wordlessly.

"Anything I can help you with?" Sam asked with only the mildest of sarcasm lacing his words.

"You're Lucifer's chosen vessel." Gabe stated baldly, cutting right to the chase.

"That's how he sees it." Sam conceded.

Gabe tilted his head. "And just what other way is there to see it?" He queried.

"Stick around and find out." Sam said shortly.

A sound from the door way caught their attention, and suddenly Lily was there, lunging for the angel, arm outstretched as Andy held her back. The angel reacted quickly, flowing into a fighting stance, his own arm outstretched.

"Stop." The word resounded in the tiny room as the temperature plummeted, frost climbing up the window pane.

Gabe looked over at Sam then, just in time to catch the tiniest glimpse of Sam's full, unbound power before Sam reigned it back in again, and he saw, in that moment, just what it really meant to be Lucifer's chosen vessel.

The power coiled deep inside Sam Winchester was immense, more than Gabe had ever seen in another demon, but it was like a wild thing, once freed, it might turn on anyone in it's path, friend or foe.

This was the power that Lucifer would happily wield in the final battle, the one that ended half the world in one fell swoop.

Sam Winchester kept it locked away, probably spending more energy on containing it than he ever did using it, because this power was the kind that would eat it's owner alive if they made even one, tiny mistake.

Andy had been right. Sam Winchester wasn't a lion.

He wasn't a fucking dragon.

He was a nuclear weapon.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Okay kiddos, here's the deal. I'm a Witch/Wiccan/Pagan. Magic will play a part in this story at times, but I am using artistic license to suit it to my purposes. The magic used in this story is dark (as it is in the show) and for the most part, not something anything I or any Witch I have ever met would use or even think about using. I'm only even including this in the notes because while Wicca/Witchcraft is a legitimate religion, the magic my characters use definitely is not. As I am a Wiccan myself, I do not have any qualms about writing about it, the way I don't have any problems twisting Christianity to suit my purposes for this story either. I just wanted to point out that as this story is a work of fiction based off of another work of fiction, that if I ever touch on an aspect of your religion that is misconstrued, please don't be offended. I have a great deal of respect for all religions, even if they are not my own. **

**In this story, I'm striving to add some clever plot twists and such, so if I come across an aspect of any religion that I feel would add an interesting dimension to the story, I'm going to use it, so please don't be offended. **

**Therefore, this is my one official disclaimer of a religious nature: **

**Almost everything in this story pertaining to any religion, it's practices, viewpoints, or beliefs has probably been fictionalized, misconstrued or is simply incorrect. **

**It is not meant to represent the ideas, morals or beliefs of the practitioner of any religion, and this story is meant to _entertain_, not educate.**

**So, there we go. Just wanted to get that out there. I figure Supernatural fans are a pretty easy going bunch, if you were too uptight about that kind of thing, you probably wouldn't be a big fan of the show, but all religions deserve respect, so I just wanted to say it.**

**Pretty Little Monsters – Chapter Seventeen**

"**Two By Two"**

"_That's how we survived, Dean. We cut our way out of our cages, with Sam in the lead. But we didn't obey Azazel. Not truly. He only thought we were giving him what he wanted. We've never belonged to him. He thought he owned us, that we were his own army, his pretty little monsters. But we were never his. We will never be his. We are Sam's, the ones of us still alive, anyway." Her eyes were far away in that moment, and Dean's mind raced, listing off the memorized names of all the other children taken at the same time as Sam._

_The ones he hadn't met yet._

_The ones he never would. _

_She swallowed, looking at him with an angry, defiant expression. "Even Sam couldn't save all of us. But the six of us, he saved. We did what they wanted. We pretended to be their good little soldiers. When they told us to drink the demon blood, we did it. Sam did it. Because he knew it would be us that Azazel punished if he refused. The more we drank, the more we needed. The more we drank, the more our powers expressed themselves, expanding, like you couldn't believe. Your mind can do so many things, if you just let it. We grew stronger with every drink, every cut, every burn. I'm nearly 900 years old Dean, and all those years but a handful were spent in the pit. They made us practice until our powers were second nature, until blood and violence and pain was the only normal we knew. The repercussions for failure were...not fun."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean stood, shirtless in front of the mirror in the bedroom that used to be his and Sam's back whenever John would leave them at Bobby's place for a few weeks.

As much as he cared for Bobby, that room was the closest he and Sam had ever had to a permanent place of their own. After Sam's disappearance, Dean had shied away from staying there over night, as the memories had a bad habit of turning into nightmares whenever he did.

Now, though, he appreciated the space and privacy the room had afforded him. He'd rode home from the hospital with Bobby. Bobby had already had the Impala towed to his place. The car needed quite a bit of work, and normally Dean would already be in Bobby's yard, fixing his baby.

But frankly, Dean was overwhelmed with everything that had happened. He was chasing Sam, demons were apparently chasing him, and Sam was either chasing him or the demons or both.

His head still hurt, and he was having a hard time adjusting to the little love notes Sam had left on his chest.

The pain from the brands had faded, but the marks themselves were clearer, if anything.

Dean actually appreciated the anti-possession brand, the more he thought about it. Sam had been precise in it's placement. It was close to his heart, with Bobby said made it work better, but far enough to the side to still be discreet, as most shirts would still cover it.

The other one, though.

Angels.

Bobby said it shielded Dean from the view of...angels.

Fluffy, winged, halo-bearing angels?

_What the hell._

Dean was absolutely sure, completely positive there was no such thing as angels. He'd never seen one, never spoken to a reputable witness who had seen one, never read a reliable account of someone who had spoken to one or seen one.

Neither had Bobby, Caleb, Pastor Jim, or, as far as he knew, his father.

But still.

A brand was a hell of a lot of work to go through to ward against an imaginary creature. Sam had been religious as a kid, he'd prayed and all that jazz, but this seemed like it was taking it a bit far.

Logically, he supposed that if Hell were real, and demons were real, than that implied that Heaven and angels were real also.

But that made no sense. That was like claiming there really was a God, and that he just sat up there on his ass and let all the bad shit happen, all the time, to innocent people.

Dean knew for a fact that angels weren't out there protecting the innocent, because if there were, he'd be out of a job.

There was no God, no Heaven, no Angels.

But Sam thought there were.

Were Sam's actions enough to outweigh all the evidence that Dean had disproving the existence of Angels?

And if they did, why the hell did Sam think he needed to be protected from them?

Dean ran his fingers across the angel ward, as he had come to think of it, feeling the smooth, barely raised edges.

He hadn't even felt Sam doing it. He'd blacked out right after Andy had gotten him out. The only reason he even knew Sam had survived his fight with the other demon was because Sam had called Bobby, and apparently had the strength to ward Dean without even waking him.

That was some serious mojo, more powerful than Dean had guessed, even after Sam's little display when fighting Mary.

Looking into the mirror again, he reluctantly pulled his t-shirt back on. The wards were bizarre, and yet they were comforting. It proved to Dean that Sam was concerned about Dean, just as Sam's actions fighting the demon who attacked Dean showed that Sam still cared, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Heck, if the kid had been in Hell all this time, his emotional health couldn't be that great. Maybe he didn't even realize that what he was feeling was concern.

But Dean knew what it was.

He just didn't know what to do about it.

Sitting down on the twin bed closest to the door, he picked up his Dad's journal. He spent over an hour paging through it at the hospital while he'd waited to be discharged. Determined to find something that might give him an edge, he settled in to read the entire thing front to back, if that is what it took.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been reading when he was suddenly startled by his phone ringing.

He looked at the number on the display, eye's widening as he recognized the familiar number. Flipping it open quickly, he said hopefully, "Dad?"

A weighted pause, and then- "Dean. Are you alright?"

Dean closed his eyes in relief. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Bumped my head is all. I'm at Bobby's, Dad, where the hell have you been? Why wouldn't you answer my calls, what the hell is going on?!"

"Dean, I can't explain. It's not safe. You..." A pregnant pause and then. "You've seen Sam, I assume?"

Dean swallowed heavily, suddenly sensing he was walking through a minefield. "Yeah. Yeah, Dad. I saw Sammy. He's alive, but..."

"He's not human anymore. I know." John finished for him. "But what matters is that you know it, Dean. You can't trust him, or anything he says. The demon that killed your mother did something to him. He's evil, Dean. I know you don't want to believe it, but I need you to listen to me very carefully, Dean. Whatever Sam is after, whatever he's doing, it's dangerous. Now, I swear to you, I'm gonna kill the bastard that did this to Sam, and killed your mom. I'm close, Dean, I'm closer than I've ever been before. That's why they're coming after you, that's probably why Sam's come back. You gotta stay away, you gotta stop looking. I can't finish this is they get to you too, Dean. I need you to stop looking. When this is all over, I'll come for you, okay?"

"Dad, I can't let you do this on your own, you need back up! And, Sam, Sam is-" Dean paused, unsure of what to say.

"Sam is a demon, Dean. Whatever they did, he's not Sam anymore." John's voice was hard, cold and commanding, and Dean felt himself shrinking, feeling that instinctive need to obey, to follow orders the way he had since he was four.

"Now, listen carefully, Dean. While I do this, you have to pick up the slack. I'll take care of the demons, but you have to do the rest. The witches, the ghosts, the werewolves, they haven't just stopped. You're needed out there, soldier. I need you to do this Dean, I need to know I can count on you to do your job. Innocent people are dying. This is what we do." John spoke quickly, as if he were running out of time, and Dean could hear traffic in the background.

"Dad..." Dean's head was full of questions, but he forced himself to remain silent.

"Write down these names, and then look on page forty three of my journal. I need you to take this case, Dean. If you fail, by tomorrow night, two innocent people with be dead."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Jake studied the destroyed house. The room he was standing in was in shambles, furniture broken, shards of glass scattered everywhere. There was a safe, door torn clean off at the hinges, lying on it's side next to the body of what Jake presumed to have once been Daniel Elkins.

Well, at least Jake had located him.

Though he was fairly certain that Sam's preference would have been to have Jake locate him while he was still breathing.

He knelt beside the body, studying it. The body was several days old, at least. Smaller animals had made their way in through the broken door and windows, and the corpse was in pretty bad condition.

Still, the presence of the animals and the lack of sulfur indicated that it hadn't been Azazel's henchman that had killed the aging hunter. Animals wouldn't come near a demon kill, their instincts easily sensing the evil left behind when a demon made it's presence known.

So.

What had killed the man then?

The safe being ripped open would indicate that his killers had been looking for something, though the way everything else in the room was destroyed gave Jake the sense that they had left frustrated.

He reached out, using one finger to shift the corpses head until it faced him, exposing the other side of Elkins' neck.

Well, that clarified that.

He stood up, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"Boy, what are you doin'?" Bobby's voice came from the doorway, and the younger hunter looked up.

Bobby sucked in a breath at the tormented expression on Dean's face.

"I need a car." He said, turning back to his packing.

"You have a car, out in my yard, in about three separate pieces." Bobby pointed out.

"I'll have to come back for her. You got one I can borrow, right?" Dean asked.

"Of course I do, but not until you tell me what the hell is going on. Where are you off to in such an all-fired hurry?" Bobby demanded.

"Hamlin, Minnesota." Dean answered tersely.

"Whatever in the blue blazes for?" Bobby asked incredulously.

Dean looked back at him. " Dad called. Told me to back off. Said my stumbling into things I didn't understand was putting him in danger. Said I needed to stick to what I was good at."

"What's that?" Bobby said, as visions of his hands wrapped around John Winchester's neck flashed through his mind.

"Hunting things." Dean said shortly. "He gave me a list of names. All couples who vanished, two by two, over the last several years. Two at a time, one pair a year, and the last place any of them were seen was Hamlin, Minnesota. Dad's journal entries says he thought it was a pagan god, a harvest spirit of some sort. He was planing on heading it off this year, but now I have to do it while he's..."

"Removing his head from his ass?" Bobby offered sarcastically.

"Busy." Dean corrected lowly.

"I've got twenty-four hours to salt and burn this thing before another couple goes missing" Dean said, shouldering his duffel and heading down Bobby's stairs.

"And that's that, then?" Bobby cried. "Seven years you've looked for Sam and now you've found him, and instead of going after him, you're just gonna go to Minnesota instead. Boy, I expected better from you."

Dean whirled around. "Good soldiers follow orders. Dad's been tracking this thing since I was four. It killed mom, it took Sam and if I screw it up by getting in the middle, then all of it was for nothing."

"Your brother saved your life last night, Dean. Now, I don't know what your Daddy had to say about that, but before you take my truck and run off, you're damn well gonna listen to what I have to say about it. Your Dad's an arsehole, Dean. Always has been. And he's always cared more about revenge for the dead than the ones still left alive, and that includes you and your brother. Now, I don't know what the hell your brother is, but I know one thing. While your Daddy was hunting a demon, your brother, who's supposedly gone dark-side, was busy saving your ass. So while you drive to Minnesota, you just think about that. And while you're at it, leave those damned newspaper articles your dad had. I'll look them over myself." Bobby tossed his keys angrily to Dean.

Dean hesitated, opening his mouth like he wanted to say something, and then closing it again when he couldn't find the words.

Bobby's voice softened. "Your daddy chose vengeance, Dean. You were always different though. Sam was too. Sam did it to save people."

"That's why I did it." Dean argued.

"No, son. Your dad did it to get revenge on the monsters. Your brother did it to save innocent people. You did it to protect your family. What you gotta ask yourself is, which of them, Sam or your Daddy, is doing what you would do?"

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Sup Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam answered the phone on the first ring.

"Sam. I've found Elkins. What's left of him, anyway." Jake's voice sounded aggravated and Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly.

The past few hours had been tense, to say the least. His siblings had obeyed Sam's orders instantly, but Lily had been so upset by the presence of Gabriel that she had given Ava a nosebleed just by being in the room with her.

Anselm had reacted immediately to protect both his sisters, using his own blood to trigger a latent angel ward on the door. Gabe had disappeared without further ado, though Sam highly doubted that was the last they would see of him.

Ava had finally gone back to resting, and Max had calmed Lily down. Using his own blood to trigger an angel ward meant to be used with strictly human blood had caused Anselm to suffer a small degree of psychic blow back, and he'd been weakened for a few hours.

Sam had ordered everyone to rest in order for them to regroup in the morning.

Now that morning had come, everyone seemed back in fighting shape, though tension could be seen in the group. They needed orders, needed action to help them focus.

Demons were rather like sharks. They had to keep moving or they drowned in the memories of hell.

He readjusted his mental plan of action, revising it as necessary to address the new information Jake was providing to him.

"Was it Azazel?" Sam asked curtly.

"No. Vamps, from the looks of it." Jake answered.

"And the colt?" Sam demanded.

"Gone. Though I don't think the killers took it. This whole place feels...angry. I think his killers left unsatisfied." Jake said musingly.

Sam was quiet for a moment. "We have to find them anyway. The vampires have gone mostly to ground. Elkins and his lot killed hundreds in the past few decades. The ones who are left will be well hidden. I'm going to send some of the others to you to help you look."

"Got it." Jake replied. "Should I torch the house?"

"Yes. No reason to give other hunters an excuse to get involved. Search it first, though. Take any papers, any maps. If the colt wasn't there, he gave it to someone else to keep, or he hid it. Take anything that might give us a direction to search in, then torch it." Sam said.

"Why are we hunting the vamps if we don't think they have the colt?" Jake asked.

"Because I want to know how the hell they even found out about it." Sam said darkly.

"Understood." Jake hung up, and Sam strode into the living room, where his other five siblings were waiting.

"Lily, Max, feel like hunting some vampires?" Sam asked in a voice that wasn't really asking.

Lily nodded, her eyes large and dark. Max simply tilted his head in acknowledgment.

"Ava, if you're ready, you're back on the search for the children." Sam ordered.

"I'm ready." She said, glad Sam wasn't reassigning her before she'd found what she was hunting for.

"Andy, Anselm, I need you to locate someone for me." Sam spoke musingly, as a new idea evolved in his mind.

Andy tilted his head, curiously. "Who are we looking for?" He asked curiously.

"Viaxes." Sam answered, and a dark smile curved on the twin's lips.

"Awesome." Anselm spoke up approvingly.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean sat in the cab of Bobby's truck, studying downtown Hamlin, what there was of it.

Hamlin was tiny, less than two hundred people, most of then descendants of German immigrants. It appeared to be a quaint, picturesque community that was, for some reason or another, sacrificing travelers to a hungry tree god.

Charming.

Dean had resolutely pushed everything else away-Sam, John, Bobby.

He focused on the case instead. He didn't know what to do, if he should trust Sam, or listen to John. Was Bobby right?

Dean had no idea about any of it.

The only thing he knew for sure was that if he screwed this up, he was pretty sure the nerdy couple eating apple pie in the diner he was parked in front of would be on missing posters by this time next year.

He got out of the truck, slamming the door behind him.

"Careful!" A feminine voice exclaimed, and Dean turned quickly.

A petite woman with short, blond hair was standing in front of him, one eyebrow arched as he studied him.

"You know, the entire sidewalk doesn't belong to you..."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Ava breathed in deeply, sitting cross legged on the cool stone floor of the crypt she had chosen for her purposes. She glanced over at the candles, and they flickered softly to life.

The crypt was old, serene and quiet. The well to-do couple had died peacefully of old age, and their spirits had moved on, leaving their crypt quiet and free of psychic interference.

She abhorred witchcraft, had hated being forced to learn it, and avoided using it whenever possible.

Unfortunately, both she and Sam had shown a decided flair for it, and Sam was busy, so this little task was left up to her.

"You know, you're a tough cookie to find. It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that fancy little brand your brother slapped on the righteous man right before we left the other night, would it?" The Angel's voice was behind her, but she didn't turn around.

Perhaps if she ignored him, he would get bored. He was fun enough while he was willing to fight her, but she doubted he'd be willing to help her with what needed doing now.

Not that she needed help.

Without speaking, still concentrating on the deck of cards on her receptive hand, she reached around with her other, lifting her shirt to expose her lower back.

Gabe could see the the angel ward, white lines writhing across her skin.

"Clever." He conceded.

"Necessary." She corrected curtly, then added "Though, apparently not clever enough, as you are somehow here once again."

"I have my ways." Gabe smirked.

Ava ignored his banter, attention now wholly focused on the cards in her hand. She started chanting lowing, fluid Latin interchanging with what sounded like Romany, though the words tumbled out so fast Gabe had trouble deciphering them.

Still without looking at him, laid the deck of cards down and picked up her angel blade. Sam had returned it to her when she left, as she was the only sibling once again without a partner.

Perhaps he had guessed Gabriel would return.

She turned the blade to her own arm, preparing to cut.

"Whoa, easy there tiger." Gabe grabbed her wrist, startling her and her eyes flew open.

"Don't...touch...me." She hissed.

His eyes flashed at her. "Just what exactly are you doing?" He demanded.

"What does it look like?" She asked acerbically. "I'm doing a location spell."

"Not one I've ever seen." Gabe said, letting go of her arm, but not moving from his crouched position beside her.

She flicked her eyes over to him. "In case you hadn't noticed, Angel, you and I went to different schools. Now leave."

"Yeah. Not happening. Haunting you is my new favorite game." The angel smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I noticed." She muttered, before taking her blade across the palm of her hand.

The angel twitched, but didn't try and stop her as she let the blood run from her cut hand onto the deck of cards. She resumed chanting, her voice now rising and falling as she powered the spell.

Finally, in a dark crackle of light and shadow, the puddle of her blood that had pooled onto the deck of cards disappeared.

"Blood calls to blood." Gabe murmured in understanding.

She looked at him solemnly. "Every living arch demon Azazel creates with his own blood is tied to me, tied to Sam."

Right now, she had enough of both her's and Sam's blood coursing through her body to turn a simple deck of playing cards into a powerful token that could be used to find another arch demon of the same bloodline.

Any cognizant arch demon would have already taken some precautions against this kind of thing, the way she and the others had.

But these children would only be infants, and this spell was blood based, linking sibling to sibling.

Even Azazel's wards would have trouble shielding them from her now.

She started dealing the deck, similar to a tarot lay-out called the Celtic Cross. The cards were only playing cards, not a true tarot deck, but it didn't matter. Ava's ability to read the cards had very little to do with the cards themselves and everything to do with her own ability to read them. The spell had tied the deck to her bloodline, and now, as she laid them out, her mind was already starting to swim with images, families, houses, firelight.

It was gentler than a vision, the deck of cards acting like a filter, letting her control the flow of information.

She laid the last card down, and stared at the reading, taking it in as a whole, studying what it was showing her, letting her understanding solidify.

"He's only made a few so far." She said lowly.

She gathered the cards back up quickly, tying a dark ribbon around the deck to hold it together.

"Well then, where are we going?" The angel asked, standing up and extending a hand to her.

"I'm going to finish what I set out to do." She replied with a smirk. "You, on the other hand, will be elsewhere."

Gabe frowned, but before he could do anything else, she pulled her alter cloth off the stone floor of the crypt, exposing the unactivated angel ward.

'Seriously?" Gabe said in annoyance.

"Enjoy your flight." She said, slapping her still bleeding palm against the ward, and the arch angel disappeared again.

"Some boys never learn." She muttered, gaining her feet gracefully. She shook her stinging hand.

Anselm was right, that had stung like a bitch.

Well.

Time to go to Pennsylvania.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"Come on, come on, move it!" Dean yelled as he hustled the frightened young couple out of the orchard and into his truck.

"What about our car?" The guy asked.

"Shut up, Larry!" The woman responded, and Dean agreed with her whole-heartedly.

He hadn't gotten a clear look at the scarecrow once it had animated, but it had been creepy enough strung up on a cross by the light of day. He didn't really need to see the fucker move.

He'd come back tomorrow morning and torch it, as well as every tree in the orchard if that was what it took.

No one else was dying on his watch.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam studied his map contemplatively.

Ava had called and said that she was headed out to Pennsylvania. She's shaken her admirer for the moment, but Sam didn't expect that would last for long.

For some reason, the angel seemed to have latched on to his sister in particular. Sam had decided he wasn't a threat to her, or he would have already taken a blade to him himself.

Still, it was better if the angel knew less of what they were doing. There was always the chance he would decide to side with Michael, and they couldn't afford for him to know everything if that were the case.

Lily and Max were already on their way out to Colorado. Along with Jake, they would fan out and start eliminating the vampires, nest by nest, until they found the nest that had killed Elkins.

Sam thought Jake was right, he doubted the colt had still been in Elkins' house.

But the real question was, who had sent the vampires after Elkins?

His phone rang and he answered without looking, as only his siblings had the new number he had acquired after calling Bobby to come help Dean.

"It's me." Meg's voice was low.

"Talk." Sam ordered, knowing she wouldn't risk calling if it wasn't worth it.

"If you have a spare demon lying around, you might send them my way." She said.

"Dad has me following Dean, and Dean's decided he's gonna go mono y mono against some pagan tree god. I think he could handle the tree alright, but the entire town's in on it, and even your brother can't take on a town of two hundred as well as Johnny Appleseed. If I break cover, Azazel will skin my meat-suit with me still inside."

"Where are you?" Sam asked, eyes flying to his map.

"Hamlin, Minnesota."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Eeek! Sorry this chapter is so short, this week has been really crazy. **

**I went temporarily insane and debuted a new project, called Tuesday's Child. It's a re-working of the series focusing on Sam/Dean/Gabriel. It's getting an awesome response right now, but don't worry, my previous stories get first dibs on updating.**

**Let's see, Prisoner of War updated yesterday, and How To Fix a Winchester updated Sunday, and I've received some great prompts for that project, which is really exciting. Also, Prisoner of War hit 100 reviews today, which is a personal first for me and I am over the moon. This project has about eighty, so it's really close also, so thank you to everyone who's taken a moment to make my day a million times better.**

**Anyway, enjoy the chapter.**

**As Always, **

_**EverReader**_

**Disclaimer: Still not my sandbox.**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Eighteen**

"**Love and Hard Decisions"**

_Dean shook his head again. This didn't make any sense. _

"_But why go to all the trouble in the first place, just to create some kind of super soldiers? What's Azazel's game? And you and Sam keep talking about the angels, but where the hell are they? If they really do exist, why would the angels let any of this happen?"_

_She laughed. "Let? Dean, I hate to break it to you, but the tree toppers aren't the good guys. They helped, Dean. See, God's gone missing. Been missing for centuries, since right after the carpenter's kid bit the dust. But before God took a powder, he spun the Angels a pretty little bedtime story about good and evil and the end of days and a big, final battle. Whoever wins gets whatever they want, their own version of paradise on earth. We're talking about the big dogs, here, Dean. The top two Arch Angels, the most powerful warriors to ever come out of Heaven. Lucifer and his big brother, Michael, going one on one in one giant, final prizefight."_

_Dean stared at her, aghast, "Lucifer, you mean, as in..." He trailed off, unable to believe she was serious._

"_Satan? The Devil? The Father of Sin? Yeah. That one. See, he was an angel, once, until he got in a fight with daddy over a silly little thing called the human race, and he rebelled, creating the demon race in the process. To the other demons, Lucifer is their god. But Lucifer lost the first round, and God had Michael cast him down, deep into the pit. He's been trying to get out ever since. Now, the angels are back-handedly helping Azazel, because the final battle can't happen until Lucifer escapes the box Michael locked him in, deep in hell. The cage to outlast all cages." Ava laughed bitterly._

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean trudged wearily through the orchard, carrying with him a jug of kerosene. He'd returned with Larry and Jennifer once the sun had risen, judging them to be safe enough in the light of day. He had gotten their car started just a few moments ago, and they'd sped off in a frightened panic.

Not that Dean blamed them.

The scarecrow was back on it's cross, but Dean walked straight by it.

He would happily torch that fugly thing before he left Hamlin, but John's notes had suggested that the harvest god most likely lived in an actual tree, only animating the scarecrow once a year in order to collect that year's sacrifice. The tree would be old, really old, and probably in the center of the orchard.

Dean walked as quickly as he could, up and down the rows of apple trees. Already, some of the trees on the edges of the orchard were starting to wither and die, and Dean guessed the deity was seriously pissed off.

Finally, he reached what he guessed to be the approximate center of the orchard. Setting down the heavy can of kerosene, he stood there, flexing his sore shoulders. Turning in a circle, he searched the oldest of the trees for a likely candidate.

He never saw the older man with the shovel aimed at the back of his head.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Max grinned savagely as he swung his machete, loping off the head of the screeching vampire who'd been lunging for him. Throwing up his hand, he tossed another vampire to where his brother Jake had taken up a batter's stance, his own machete ready.

Jake's swing easily parted the vampire's head from her shoulders, blood spraying across the room in a crimson fountain.

"I'm glad your having fun." Lily said idly as she walked into the room, a spattering of blood patterning her face like dark freckles.

Max shrugged, not even pretending to be ashamed.

"I've gone through the paperwork in the desk. I don't think this is the right nest. But I found an address book that looks promising. I think two of the other addresses may be other nests." She had, scrunching her nose delicately.

"Vampire blood reeks." She commented, looking around the room in distaste.

"Well, those two were the last ones here. Let's light it up." Jake said, using one of the vampires shirts to wipe down his machete, before handing it to Max so he could clean his weapon also. Lily already had her katana in a sheath on her back, so she pulled out a lighter speculatively.

She paused, though, looking around in dissatisfaction

"We always burn the bodies." She complained.

Jake arched a brow at her. "Something special in mind?" He asked, intrigued by the possibilities. He'd never admit it, but he was glad Sam had sent out his siblings. His search had been frustrating so far, and while he worked well alone, the monotony had started to wear on him.

Lily and Max made excellent companions, working well together with their quiet brother

"Max, from just how far away can you start an explosion?" She asked curiously, turning to look at her brother.

His grin was all the answer she needed.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava entered the house on quiet feet, not that she needed to. Creed Coleman's father, Devon, was passed out on the sofa, the bottle of sleeping pills still open on the coffee table.

He wasn't taking the death of his wife very well.

She walked upstairs, not bothering to look around. The walls were bare, the floor boards dusty. The house was half empty, most of the family's belongings (the ones that had survived the fire, at least) were still piled haphazardly in boxes.

She entered the last room on the left. A nursery.

Or, at least that was the intention, she supposed.

The walls of the room were as bare as the hallway, bereft of photos or any sort of decorations. Some bedraggled clothes hung in the closet, and a few stuffed animals were lying on the floor.

The only other things in the room were a second hand crib and it's tiny occupant.

She came to stand at the side of the crib, looking down at the child, much as Azazel had only weeks earlier.

Creed Coleman stared up at her with large, blue eyes.

He was still awake, bottle laying beside him, dribbling a little onto the mattress. He'd kicked off his blanket, and she watched him kick his legs a little as one tiny sock started to work it's way off.

"Hush, little baby..." She half sang, as she danced her fingers across Creed's forehead.

Her littlest brother.

"Ava." The voice, lit with tightly contained anger, came from behind her, but she didn't startle, didn't turn.

Gabe didn't wait for her to acknowledge him, however, wrenching her away from the crib and slamming her against the wall.

"What are you doing?" Gabe hissed furiously. His body langauge radiated anger, and she felt her own muscles tense up in reaction.

She stared at him defiantly. "The kindest thing anyone, angel or demon, will ever do for him." She snarled the last words, and Gabe pulled her back just enough to push her back into the wall again.

"You mean, you're going to kill him. He's an infant." Gabe hissed.

Her eyes flashed at him. "He's an arch demon."

"He's eight months old." Gabe growled.

Ava laughed. "And yet, I'm still the only one who will save him. He's an arch demon, _angel_. He's damned already. It's only a matter of time before the hounds come for him and he suffers the way we did. Only he might not be so lucky. Azazel might not wait fifteen years. Maybe he'll decide to get a jump start on round two and try seeing what happens when you raise an infant in hell. That would be a thing to see, wouldn't it, _angel_? A child who's never known anything but sulfur and screaming and pain and hate. There's no Sam waiting down there to save him, Gabriel. If Azazel decides to reap him early, the only thing he will ever know is..." She trailed off wordlessly, shaking her head, furious anger lighting her features.

"Don't you dare..." Gabe said warningly.

"Then you'd better kill me. Because I won't abandon him to our fate. This ends with me and Sam and the rest of us." She said, lifting her chin.

"And you think killing him is the answer?" Gabe said furiously.

"If his body dies here, he's useless to Azazel. Who knows, the angels might even let him into heaven. Azazel won't bother wasting resources on the soul of an infant he can't use. He needs living arch demons." She replied heatedly.

"That won't stop Azazel. He'll just keep making more arch demons!" Gabe warned.

"Then I will keep killing them. I will do what the angels didn't!" She cried, and Gabe jerked away as if he'd been burned. She advanced on him, though, relentless in her hurt and fury.

"You turned a blind eye, all of you. The things they did to us...there are no words, not in your langauge, not in mine. Tell me, angel, what does it sound like when an child prays to you from the pits of hell? Or can you even hear it? Maybe it's just one more scream among a million others? If you stop me, you're not saving him. You're damning him. If you'd stood at my crib twenty-two years ago, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. Sam sent me because he knew I would do what no one else will do. It's terrible, and it's horrible, and maybe that's why it's takes a demon to do it. Because nothing you can do to me will ever be as bad as what they will do to him, and I'm...not...afraid." Her words were like knives, sharp and jagged, and Gabe found his own protests drying up.

She was right. He had refused to interfere until now.

She turned her back on him, meaning her words completely. He could kill her if he wanted.

She wasn't afraid of dying, and she wasn't afraid of doing the hard things.

Still, she hesitated as she came to stand before the crib once again. Creed had watched their argument with wide eyes, and now, as she came to stand before him, he rolled over, pulling himself shakily up against the bars of his crib.

She stared down and he stared up, each lost in the other's eyes.

"You're so sure that Sam will win." Gabe said from behind her, voice almost cajoling. "If that's the case, why kill the child?"

"Azazel could come for him tomorrow." She said, voice completely emotionless.

The baby reached a hand out, fisting his hand in her shirt.

"He's your brother." Gabe said desperately.

She looked over her shoulder. "Isn't it funny, though. That a demon can understand love when an angel can't? That's what love means. It means doing the really hard things, because they're right. This is the only thing that will ever make him safe from Azazel."

The stillness in the room that descended after she spoke was so thick it could have been cut with a blade.

"I can save him." Gabe offered suddenly.

She turned back to the baby, pushing the child's hair off his head with a gentle hand.

"No, you can't." She murmured. "Not even an archangel can undo the taint of the demon blood inside his body. Azazel doesn't do things in half measures. Every step of his creation was perfect, the deal with his father, the ritual at exactly six months. Even you can't change it. His body is different, and it will be for as long as he lives. He'll never be safe."

Gabe studied her, choosing his words with care.

"I can hide him. The blood inside him is dormant. It will be, for years. If Azazel hadn't dragged you to hell, your own abilities wouldn't have shown up so early."

He moved a few steps closer to her. "Years, Ava. Years for Sam to defeat Azazel. I can hide him, and his father. I'll erase their memories, their names. You know there are ways to hide from angels and demons alike. When Sam defeats Azazel, the blood inside Creed will lose it's power. It might remain dormant forever." The Angel's words fell into the stillness of the room like stones into a deep well.

She studied the child. He had a spray of freckles across his nose, and one darker one right under his left eye.

Gabe held his breath as she stood, as motionless as a statue.

"Promise me." She said quietly. "Promise me, that if they ever take him, you'll go and get him yourself. Promise me that if I walk away right now, he isn't losing the only chance he'll ever have to go to heaven. _Swear it_."

Gabe swallowed hard. What she was asking was dangerous, and if an Angel were to give their word truly, they were bound to it.

"I swear." He said, the words coming out in Enochian instinctively, and she flinched a little.

"This may be the most truly evil thing I'll ever do." She whispered, turning sharply to walk quickly out of the room.

"Ava." He said her name gently, and she whirled around, a wild dangerous animal. "You might be able to save him, angel. But you can never save me. _I can't_ _be_ _saved_. I became free the day I understood that I never could."

He narrowed his eyes at her, opening his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.

"Don't tell me where you take him. I don't want to know. If I don't know, no one can ever make me talk. Sam might very well end me for this." She said, pressing her lips together.

"He won't kill you." Gabe answered assuredly.

She turned to leave the room once again.

"He should."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean groaned, opening his eyes slowly. He was still outside, but now the sun was in the wrong position in the sky, and that was never a good thing.

"Glad you finally decided to join me. You've been crappy company." The voice came from his left, and he turned his head in careful increments as he tried to figure out why it sounded familiar.

Looking over, he was suprised to realize that the blonde he'd bumped into on the sidewalk yesterday was the one speaking. They were both in the orchard, and Dean realized the reason his arms hurt so much was because he was handcuffed to one of the older apple trees.

She was cuffed also, to the tree opposite of him.

"So. We didn't really get a chance to talk yesterday." She grinned at him wryly. "I'm Meg. Do you, by any chance, happen to know what the hell is going on?" Her voice was calm enough, but a thread of fear laced it.

Dean swallowed, throat dry. "Someone hit me over the back of the head." He admitted. "You?"

"I'm just passing through. The Sheriff offered to give me a ride to the bus stop. Offered me some coffee from his thermos, and the next thing I know, I'm tied to a tree like the blond from King Kong!" She said, eyes wide.

Dean swallowed. "Yeah. About that..."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Andy walked through the silent docks casually, listening with his mind as well as his ears, but he could discern nothing unusual.

No sulfur, no screaming. No recent boat wrecks of a suspicious nature.

He sighed wryly.

Last they'd heard, Viaxes had been working his way up and down the New England coastline. This was the fourth port Andy had check so far, though, and he hadn't so much as heard a whisper of the traveling demon.

There were a handful more that fit the description of Viaxes preferred hunting grounds, but Andy was starting to think he was looking in the wrong places. Viaxes had done some extensive work with boats (The Titanic sprang to mind) but demons were nothing if not adaptable.

A low flying plane flew over head just then, and Andy looked up speculatively.

In the distance, he could see another, larger plane going in the direction of the regional airport.

That could be promising.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"So you're telling me that the whack jobs who run this town are going to sacrifice us to the damn scarecrow?" Meg said incredulously.

"Well, most of the time, it's an apple tree, if that helps any?" Dean offered, tugging once more at his restraints, but they held fast.

"If I wasn't trussed up like a damn thanksgiving turkey, I'd say you were nuts. If we get out of this, I'm going to kill my brother." She muttered, yanking again at her handcuffs.

"What's your story, anyway?" Dean asked, trying to take her mind off their precarious situation while he came up with a plan.

Or, at least, a plan to have a plan.

She sighed. "Well, talk about your bad luck. Like I said, I'm just passing through. I'm looking for my younger brother. He and Dad got in a huge fight, and it got...pretty ugly." She said.

"Oh yeah? What about?" Dean asked curiously.

She shrugged. "Danny's never going to be the son Dad wants. As far as Dad's concerned, he's dead to the family. I felt differently, so I decided to go looking for him. Dad wasn't to happy, so he cut me off."

"Hence the stupidly dangerous mode of travel?" Dean asked with raised brows.

"Well,I got to be honest. My parents never warned me about sneaky, hitchhiker drugging sheriffs and man-eating scarecrows." She said sarcastically.

Dean looked at her curiously. "Would it have made a difference?"

She smiled wryly again. "No. I'd still come looking for Danny."

"You don't even know where he is, or if he wants to be found." Dean pointed out.

She shrugged again. "He's my brother. He might not be the brother my Dad thinks he should be, but I'm not giving up on him. That's not how family's supposed to work. I'm not just gonna quit on him because things got hard." She said defiantly, and Dean flinched, thinking back over Bobby's words.

"So..." She said. "Got a plan yet?"


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: And here we go. I figured this chapter would be longer, but I covered all the ground I had meant to, so I guess it is what it is. Updates may be sporadic over the next few days, as my Mom has to have open heart surgery. I apologize in advance.**

**So, lets see. Prisoner of War updated yesterday, and I love the chapter, even if the tone doesn't quite match the rest of the story. Also, if you head over to my profile, you could check out the first chapter of my newest project, Tuesday's Child. Updates for that one will be slow at first, but it's going to be really fun, and if anyone has ideas for it, I'd love to hear them. The goal is to write the outline and prologues this weekend, and since the storyline is still pretty wide open, there's a lot of possibility to play with. **

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Nineteen**

"**Signs of the Times"**

"_But why would the angels want to start a battle that would destroy half the earth?" Dean asked incredulously._

_She looked away, and Dean swore for a moment she actually looked...sad._

"_The angels aren't what you think they are, Dean. They're not caring, they're not kind. They're a whole other race, that's been following directions from an AWOL God for millennia. To them, the rapture is something to look forward to. They've been babysitting humanity for centuries, and they're tired of it. Now, Michael and the others have decided to jump start the prophecy, and along with it, the end of days. See, they think they can win, and the demons, they think they can win, but the big fight can't even start until Lucifer's box is popped. That's where we come in."_

"_What do you mean?" Dean asked with numb lips._

"_Certain things have to happen, in order for Lucifer to rise. Some of those things, Azazel and his goons can accomplish on their own. Others, though, require...a more specialized kind of demon."_

"_Like Sam." Dean breathed._

_Turning back to him though, her voice was like steel. _

"_Exactly like Sam. And me, and all the other kids. We were created, Dean. Created to serve as Azazel's army. We were born to break the world, and before this is all over, everyone, the angels, the demons, will finally understand exactly what they have unleashed, what they helped to create."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

"I have a plan...to have a plan." Dean conceded reluctantly.

Meg arched a brow. "So pretty much, what you're saying is, we're fucked?"

"I'm working on it." Dean said through gritted teeth, renewing his struggles against the handcuffs binding him to the tree. "Just...keep you're eye on the scarecrow and tell me if it starts moving."

"Uh, Dean? About that..." Meg's voice trailed off ominously.

"It's gone, isn't it?" Dean asked in dread. No matter what he did, he couldn't get loose. He had already worked bloody circles onto his wrists during his struggle.

"Dean!" Meg hissed suddenly, and Dean ceased moving, freezing with a hunter's instincts as he listened to the sound of footsteps approaching. Dean drew up his legs in anticipation of lashing them out at the scarecrow when it attacked, but what came from around the tree was instead a sleek, black Doberman.

"Good...Doggie." Dean said warily, unsure of exactly how the dog figured into the sacrifice ritual.

"Actually, her name is Dante." An amused voice said suddenly from beside Meg's tree and she yelped a little, frightened half-scream.

"Who the hell are you?" Meg said.

The man leaned over to rub the dog's head affectionately.

"Anselm." He replied shortly.

Something about the way he carried himself, the inflection of his voice, was familiar to Dean, tugging on his recent memories.

"Did Sam send you?" Dean suddenly asked, as he placed the source of Anselm's familiarity.

"I'm certainly not from Hamlin. I don't even like apples." Anselm replied as he reached behind Dean and easily snapped the cuffs in two. Dean now had one half of each cuff braceleted around his wrist, but he could work with that.

"Don't care! Me next!" Meg said in an urgent voice, looking around wildly.

"I'll second that. They took my weapons. Do you have a gun?" Dean said, turning to Anselm.

"Guns aren't really my style." Anselm wryly, and Dean's heart sank. There was nothing Dean hated more than being unarmed around a baddie.

"However..." Anselm added, reaching towards the small of his back. "I found this one at the edge of the orchard. Thought it might come in handy. The kerosene too."

Anselm handed Dean his white handled hand gun and Dean nearly closed his eyes and sighed out loud.

Now they were cooking with gas.

Or, at least, they would be soon.

"We have to torch it's tree, but we need to watch out for the scarecrow." Dean said tersely, checking to make sure the safety on his gun was off.

"I'll handle the straw-head, you find the tree." Anselm ordered, and Dean frowned, disliking the idea of taking orders from a demon.

Just then, Meg clutched his arm. "Dean!" She hissed, pointing into the shadows between two trees several yards away.

Dante growled low in her throat.

"Torch the tree." Anselm said mildly, drawing out a wickedly curved blade.

Dean's eyes widened as the scarecrow loped into view with a jagged, uneven steps. Dean wasn't sure, but he could swear he could he a rustling, buzzing sound coming from it, like there was a hive full of angry insects nestled deep within the Scarecrow's chest, where it's heart should have been.

"Christ!" Dean muttered, grabbing up the jug of kerosene with one hand, and the newly freed Meg by the other.

Dean and Meg headed deeper into the orchard as Anselm squared off with the Deity, Dante a growling shadow at his side.

Dean and Meg ran as quickly as they could in the dark, dodging roots and low hanging branches.

Suddenly a man in a Sheriff's uniform jumped out, wrapping his arms around Meg's waist. She gasped in surprise before slamming her elbow into his gut. Startled, he let her go just in time for Dean to take him down with a neat upper cut to his jaw.

"Nice." Meg said approvingly.

"Told you I had a plan." Dean grinned.

"You should have said you had a friend." Meg said, as they reached the oldest part of the orchard.

"It's...complicated." Dean said, looking around for the Deity's tree.

"Things usually are-hey, what about this one?" She asked, pointing at a stunted, twisted tree dripping with dark red apples. Strange, runic like carvings were etched into it's trunk.

"Looks like a winner." Dean said, quickly un-screwing the cap of the kerosene. From behind them, he could here the sounds of fighting, and he hoped Sam's friend came out on top.

Dean liberally splashed the tree with kerosene, emptying the jug along the trunk and tossing some up among the lower branches. He tossed the empty jug at the trees base for good measure, before patting his pockets.

"Here." Meg handed him a shiny, silver zippo.

"My kind of girl." Dean said, flicking the lighter open.

He tossed the lighter onto the part of the trunk the most saturated with accelerant, and almost immediately, the tree went up in flames with a whoosh. Dean and Meg leaned back from the heat, as a keening wail went up from behind them.

They turned to watch as the scarecrow stumbled into view, flames dancing along it's arms and chest. It managed a few more limping steps before collapsing onto the ground.

Dean watched the firelight dance across Anselm's features from across the clearing.

"Where's Sam?" Dean called, now that the immediate threat had passed.

Anselm shrugged. "He's a busy man. Watch out for yourself, Winchester. Things are moving quickly now."

"What's that supposed to mean? Dean asked, frustrated with yet more enigmatic bullshit from Sam's...allies.

Anselm didn't answer, instead, seeming to melt away into the shadows of the edge of the orchard.

"Nice friend." Meg commented.

"Like I said. It's complicated."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Gabe watched from a safe distance, invisible to the naked eye. The man sat, perched up the edge of the low wooden railing that ran along the edge of the playground enclosure.

The infant played happily in the gravel in front of the man, banging a plastic shovel into ground.

"No, no Matthew, don't eat it!" The man said gently, easing the baby's fingers open to free the small handful of pebbles.

"Your little boy is so adorable. Just look at those freckles." A woman holding the hand of a little blonde girl said.

The man looked up. "Thank you. He's the spitting image of his late mother."

The woman frowned sympathetically. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that she passed."

The man smiled sadly. "It was right after Matthew was born. We've had a while to adjust. It's strange, but time really does heal all wounds, I guess."

"Well, good for you. I'm sure she's his guardian angel, now." The woman replied.

The man smiled. "Yeah, you know, that's a great way to look at it. You hear that Matthew? Angels are watching over you, Buddy."

The baby gurgled happily, turning his head unerringly to where Gabe to watching.

"I wouldn't credit this one to team Angel." Gabe murmured.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Bobby answered the phone on the second ring.

"Yeah." He said tiredly, rubbing his gritty eyes.

"Bobby, it's me." Dean's voice came lowly from the other end of the line.

"Dean, how'd the job go?" Bobby asked.

"South, and quickly. I'd have been toast if another one of Sam's little friends hadn't shown up." Dean admitted.

"Well, what now?" Bobby asked.

There was a long silence on the other end and Bobby held his breath expectantly.

"What did you find...when you were looking at those articles I took from Dad's motel?" Dean finally asked and Bobby closed his eyes in relief.

However confused Dean might be now, in the long run, no matter what John said, he'd never forgive himself if he didn't go after his brother. For good or bad, Dean would never be able to live with himself.

"Well, I've found out some different things, but I'm not sure how all of them fit together." He admitted.

"First of all, everyone of Sam's siblings, as he calls them, correlates directly with one of the missing kids, just like you suspected, though I'm darned if I can explain how they managed to age while in Hell, since everything I've read indicates that once a soul goes to Hell, it stops aging. The anti-possesion brand you're sporting thanks to Sam isn't just the super-strength version, the way we suspected, it also makes it harder for Demons to see you psychically, or using a spell. Not impossible, mind you. You're not invisible, just not the beacon you were before. You're harder to track now. The angel ward is just that. It's complex magic, Dean. Layers and layers of magic, and it's placement was very precise. I don't know if angels really do exist, but I they do, they sure as hell can't find you."

"Bobby, we suspected all that already." Dean said.

"But now I've done the research to verify it. And it tells us something else. If that demon ward is working, Sam's friends aren't tracking you through magic." Bobby replied.

Dean thought about that for a moment. "They're tracking me physically."

"Most likely. One of them could be watching you right now." Bobby agreed.

"What about those articles?" Dean asked again.

"Best I can tell, your Dad's been tracking the Demon who started this mess. The articles he saved mentioned things like dry lighting, barometric and isolated temperature fluctuations, cattle deaths. Surges in city power grids. Plants dying out of season. Animals going haywire. They're signs, Dean. John's been using these occurrences to track the demon, but the problem is-"

"He's always been one step behind." Dean finished. "By the time we find out about the signs, the demon's already moved on."

Bobby paused, uncertain he wanted to open the can of worms he was about to with his next words.

"Well, there might be a way around that." He said reluctantly.

"What do you got?" Dean asked quickly.

"There's a bar, down in Illinois, called the Roadhouse. It's run by a woman named Ellen. Her man was a hunter, worked with your Daddy on occasion before he died. Hunter's tend to frequent the place, and she keeps an eye open for cases, acts as a liaison of sorts. She took in a college dropout a few years ago, kid by the name of Ash. Supposedly he's some kind of techie genius. Writes software as a hobby. He created a program a few months back, searches news articles for spirit activity. When he comes across something likely, he passes it over to Ellen. If she thinks it passes muster, she makes calls until she finds someone to go check it out." Bobby said.

"Why haven't I ever heard of this place before, a hunter's bar?" Dean asked.

Bobby chose his words carefully. "Your Daddy didn't part of the best of terms with Ellen after her husband died. I wouldn't send you there now, except, whatever is going down, it's big. Like it or not, I think Ash is your best chance of finding whatever John was tracking, and, unless I miss my guess, that's what Sam is tracking too."

"How do I find this place?" Dean asked decisively.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"Where are you now?" Sam asked as he studied the map in front of him.

"Boston National Airport." Andy replied.

"And you think Viaxes has taken to the skies?" Sam said musingly. The traveler had traditionally preferred to cause ship wrecks, but there was no reason why a plane crash wouldn't cause enough havoc to keep him happy.

Viaxes was old, and wily. Though not an arch demon, he'd been around a long, long time, long enough to know things, important things.

Things Sam wanted to know.

"He's already moved on, but I wanted to look into the plane crash, see if I can pick up on his MO." Andy said as he studied the planes pulling onto and off the long runways.

"Do what you need to." Sam said.

"What about you?" Andy asked. "Have you been able to find the pattern?"

"I think so. We already had some good guesses." Sam replied as looked through some articles he'd printed from the internet.

Most strong demon activity left traces, signs, so to speak. But the really strong ones caused these signs to appear even before they made their move. Sometimes it was a part of the rituals, other times it was just a side effect of a strong demonic aura.

These signs tended to fall somewhere along an established pattern. Some demons caused floods, others fevers. Still others caused dry lightning.

Finding Azazel's pattern had simply been a matter of screening out with forms of activity were being caused by other demons. The seven had had no real idea of his particular pattern when they left hell, having never watched Azazel work from the outside.

Meg, likewise, had no idea, by the time she was allowed topside, Azazel had kept her either to close or to far to notice such things clearly. Knowing an Arch Demon's pattern was like having their calling card, and Demon's would go out of their way to keep secrets like that. Azazel had a habit of frequently killing his lower level flunkies, to keep his secret.

Over the past few weeks, however, Sam had been narrowing down on activity that was specific to Azazel whenever he was doing things that required large amounts of power.

Like the ritual to create an arch demon.

He and Andy hung up, and Sam looked over to where Ava had been standing silently in the doorway for the past few moments.

She walked over and wordlessly set a deck of playing cards tied with black ribbon down on his desk.

"I couldn't do it." She said, bracing herself for Sam's anger.

"What did you do then?" Sam asked, studying her.

"I let the arch angel hide them." She said.

"You realize, if he's working with Michael, we've just handed Heaven the weapons they need to win the war." Sam said coldly.

"Yes." She said, meeting his eyes.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Because you told me to trust you." She replied. "You promised we would end this. That's what the angel said, and he was right. Killing those kids is like saying we think we are going to fail. But we're not. We will probably die, but we won't fail. Either we win, or we die, and either way, killing those kids won't change anything." She said.

Sam watched her for a moment. "I know."

"Then why?" She asked, voice trailing off.

"You needed it." Sam said simply. "If it was you or them, I'm going to pick you, Ava. And you were never going to be OK until you made a choice about this."

"What if I had killed them?" She asked.

"Then Azazel could never hurt them." Sam replied evenly. "As it stands, if we die, he might come after them. He might not. Either way, we won't care. And now the screaming in your head has gone away, hasn't it?

She swallowed. "Yes."

"Good. Because Andy is going to need your help."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Okay, kiddos. I have some thoughts to share with all of you. This story, in case you haven't noticed, is set to be extremely long. As in, however long you were picturing it, double it. It's very involved and complicated, and I'm juggling a lot of characters/plot points/side story arcs. For instance, the Gabe/Ava dynamic is incredibly interesting, and a lot of you have remarked on the same thing. I enjoy reader feed back on the various ideas for this story. Reviews are amazing, but reviews can only be written in response to what I have already wrote and posted. Polls, likewise, are somewhat limited.**

**Would it be crazy to create a forum for this story? Some of you are incredibly faithful to this story, and as many of my reviewers know, I have no problem giving out spoilers if a reader has a specific question, but I'm hesitant to put answers in direct author's notes, because many readers don't want spoilers.**

**I have been thinking that a forum might let me communicate with you guys about any questions you have, and also let me pose questions back to you (the ones who want to be involved, naturally) without ruining the surprise/suspense for the readers who don't want to know the behind the scenes. This would also let me test out potential plot lines on the ones of you who don't mind giving me a little more feedback, which I know not everyone has time to do.**

**Since (to my understanding) forum queries and answers are public, if I ever address any questions for a reader in a forum, if a new reader picks up this story two months from now and has a question I have already answered for another reader, that way they could still read it.**

**So tell me, is this a workable idea? Am I being full of myself? I love talking to you guys, and while this is my story and I have a million ideas I want to use for it, I also want my writing to be responsive. Everyone who has gotten this far into the story so far hopefully enjoys it, so I don't think any of you would present me with feedback that would lessen the story. I have received so many great ideas and encouragement from you all, that I would love to have a way for any readers interested in being more involved to do so.**

**Just the other day, I got a review asking for more Sam involvement, and the funny thing is, that was exactly what I was thinking, but hearing a reader request it helped clarify it for me.**

**There are actually a few plot twists planned for this story that I am actually almost hesitant to use, because I am afraid I might be taking the story TOO FAR. Anyone following the forum threads would help me sort of beta test these ideas. Furthermore, in just a couple of weeks, new episodes will be airing. I am not afraid to work current plot lines into this story, but that can be shaky ground.**

**So. Thoughts, ideas, love it, hate it, wouldn't be involved if I payed you. Let me know. It's pointless if you guys don't want to be involved, but I think this could really make this a killer story if any of you are game. I wouldn't expect any kind of time commitment from anyone, if my understanding is correct, once you follow a thread, you get email updates, just like if you follow the story, so if you had time you could check it out.**

**Not sure if this is the point of a forum or not, but if that isn't a good use of a forum, then I don't know what is, and as I writer, I want to use any tools available to me.**

**Sorry for the world's longest author's notes.**

**Okay. Ready for an actual update?**

**Gladly. **

**PS, My mom has open heart surgery in two days, and I am warning everyone that updates may be sporadic. I'm lucky that the people in my life are very supportive of my writing, but people are more important than stories, plus I'm a single mom who works full time, so please bear with me.**

**Reviews are love, especially about the forum idea, if you don't mind.**

**As Always. **

**EverReader**

**PPS- Has everyone checked out the prologue to my newest project, Tuesday's Child? It's getting a great response, and while the original plan had been for the first real chapter to hit Tuesday (naturally, lol) my mom's surgery may upset that a little. If you are interested in it, I'd suggest slapping a follow on it.**

**On the plus side, want to hear my Darkside Sam's theme song? So cool. Check out "Get In Line" by Simon Curtis. Pandora found that little jewel for me and it went on my writing remix play list so fast. You guys don't even get it. I'm almost freaked out by how accurate it is. The lyrics are crazy.**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox. **

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter 20**

"**Forward Motion"**

"_But why were you, Sam, any of you picked in the first place, just, what...the wrong place at the right time?" Dean demanded._

"_Bloodlines." She replied. "It all comes down to that, in the end. Azazel needed certain things. Intelligence, strength, bravery, but most of all, he needed us to have a certain...pedigree. Certain human bloodlines create more powerful demons. You and Sam? You're the final links in the Winchester bloodlines. All the living arch demons come from families with powerful bloodlines, power that could be adapted to jump start an arch demon. My family line, your family line. Lily, Max, Jake. Andy and Anselm are actual twins, did you even know that? Azazel did. He hunted down the strongest of the human bloodlines, and he cherry picked the kids who fit the bill. It could have just as easily been you who was taken, Dean. You were just too old by the time Azazel came around." _

_Dean recoiled in horror at her words, but she continued on. _

"_They wanted to build a better demon, and they succeeded. No fear. No doubt. No hesitation. None of the heavy morality that humanity imposes on itself out of some misguided perception of good and evil. Just strength, and skill and power. Nothing but want and take and driving, forward motion. The ultimate predator. We're smarter, we're faster, and we're infinitely more dangerous than anything you or anyone else on this planet has ever encountered, because we don't just have nothing left to lose. Suicides have nothing left to lose. What we are, Dean, is worse, we're so...much...worse. Because we've already lost everything, and that means we have everything to gain."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean cursed silently as he crossed the Illinois State line. According to Bobby, the Roadhouse was located in a nowheresville town called Branstville, in Cold County, Illinois.

He'd meant to ask Bobby if the doctor's at the hospital had taken his amulet off in the ER. He'd been so sidetracked at first by the brands he hadn't even realized it was missing, but he had noticed back in Hamlin, and now the absence of the familiar weight nagged at him persistently from the recesses of his mind, like a toothache that, while not screaming in pain, throbbing insistently from the back ground.

As he drove, he pondered everything that had happened.

Anselm's appearance in Hamlin had supported Bobby's theory that some part of Sam stilled cared for Dean. And Bobby was right, Sam must have some way of tracking him that the brands didn't interfere with, which was just more evidence of how powerful the children were.

If Anselm was the last of the children, then seven had escaped hell, and Dean could only assume that they were being hunted by whoever was hunting him, most likely the demon their Dad had been hunting all these years.

It rubbed Dean the wrong way to go against a direct order from John, but Dean reasoned that John didn't have the information Dean did, hadn't seen Sam and the other kids in action.

Yes, they were obviously no longer strictly human, their demonic natures were pretty obvious. But somehow, they had maintained at least a semblance of their humanity.

How could Dean ignore that? If there was even a shred of the old Sammy in there, didn't he have to try?

Didn't he owe Sam that? John had always told Dean that his job was to look out for Sam.

So that was what he was going to do. Both Sam and John could just get on board with it.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Sam sat cross legged on the roof of his current head quarters. Since escaping Hell, he'd found himself needing to be outside more and more often.

Ava's deck of cards were lying in front of him.

She'd really created a useful little tool with the dollar store pack of cards, and Sam had to marvel at the flair of her particular brand of spell craft. She lacked the raw power Sam held, but nonetheless, her gift was nothing to be trifled with. The simple deck of cards were now a devastatingly effective tracking charm that had exceeded even her own expectations, which was why she had turned it over to Sam. Were their enemies to get a hold of it, it could be turned against the siblings. They'd all taken as many precautions against tracking as possible, but as Ava had proven, even a small amount of magic wielded effectively could usually find away against any kind of protections a demon could put in place to avoid detection.

Now, Sam was prepared to upgrade her idea to the next level. Ava was talented.

Sam was powerful.

"Thought I'd find you here." Anselm's voice echoed across the rooftop, as he walked into view.

Sam had sensed him coming closer for the past few hours, so he wasn't surprised. Anselm tended to do his own thing, and Sam trusted his instincts.

If Anselm had turned up here, he was probably going to be useful.

Still...

Sam looked up. "You might not want to be here for this." He answered noncommittally. "If this spell back fires, Azazel will know exactly where I am."

"Which is why you sent everyone else to separate ends of the country." Anselm confirmed, leaning against the low wall nearest Sam, Dante sitting quietly at his side.

"Yes." Sam agreed, closing his eyes. "You should probably head south." He offered.

"Ava's killed everything interesting down there already. I'll stick around." Anselm said casually.

"Suit yourself." Sam said, focusing on the cards.

Anselm could feel the power rising around his king, felt the careful mastery Sam held over the raging inferno that was Sam's ability.

"Paritus Regis, Imperium Consectari Daemon Azazel" Sam muttered, a repetitive chant, and Anselm found himself having to shield his inner eye, as Sam's aura had flared brightly with the dark-tinged gold that was trademark of his power.

Anselm watched as writing appeared, writhing up and down Sam's arms, knew writing he couldn't see was dancing along Sam's back.

The writing on Sam's arms was the "Prophecy of the Boy King" laid there by Azazel himself, in lieu of a contract, because Sam had, in fact, never contracted with Azazel.

The writing on Sam's back was laid there by Sam, or, more accurately, Sam's siblings, under Sam's orders.

It was a promise Sam had made himself, a list of names.

Thirty-six of them.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Ava strutted down the hallway, dragging one of the guards baton's lightly against the bars of the cells as she walked.

The sound of her heels echoed against the concrete floors, and she hummed loudly to herself, glancing over her shoulder and flicking a finger at a security camera as she passed,short circuiting it completely.

The men had differing reactions, the braver one's issuing catcalls and whistling, the wiser ones retreating to the furthest corners of their cells silently, watching her with leery eyes.

She came to the cell she wanted, leaning against the bars of the open doorway.

Andy knelt patiently in front of the seated man, whose lower body was frozen but whose eyes were wide with fear.

"Tell me again." Andy said patiently, cleaning out under his finger nails with his blade, a habit he had picked up from Anselm.

"Guards are taken care of." Ava announced.

"Where's your angel friend, again?" Andy asked, tossing a challenging look over his shoulder.

"Who knows." She said casually. "Torturing CEO's probably. This going to take much longer? I'm hungry."

"No, you're bored." Andy retorted. "It's a common mistake. Go play with the other inmates."

"Whatever. This blows." Ava replied, turning to walk back down the hall. Andy could hear her question one of the inmates.

"Where do they house child molesters?"

He rolled his eyes. That should keep her busy. Turning back to his own project, he repeated his question.

"Tell me again."

The man swallowed. "It wasn't my fault, I swear it. They said it happened because I was drinking, but I'd only had a few shots. I worked like that all the time, and I'd never caused a plane crash before. Four planes, all in one night, it wasn't natural, I swear..."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean entered the bar carefully. It was empty, early morning sun streaming through the shuttered windows, dust motes floating gently in the golden light.

Chairs were laid upside down on the tables, and a well stocked bar could be seen in the center.

"Can I help you?" The words were punctuated by the sound of a shotgun being cocked.

"I really hope you're Ellen." Dean said, as he slowly turned to face the attractive older woman.

She looked him up and down. "Well, you know enough to know my name, but not enough to know the Roadhouse is off limits until four."

Dean shrugged. "Guess Bobby forgot to mention that fact." He muttered.

More likely, Bobby had wanted Dean to appreciate just want kind of woman Ellen was.

She raised a brow. "Bobby Singer?"

He raised a brow back. "Is there another?"

"Fuck." She said simply. "I'm guessing you're Dean then. Not to many hunter's floating around with the eyes of a Disney princess."

"Hey!" Dean said indignantly.

"Take it like a man." She said in a no-nonsense voice.

She walked over behind the bar and took down a bottle of whiskey. "You better be here to tell me why the demon activity around here has skyrocketed."

His eyes widened for a moment. "Well, if I had to guess, things are pretty hot everywhere."

She snorted, "Ain't that the truth. Well, what do you want?"

"I need to talk to Ash." Dean said, choosing his words with care. "Like you said, demon activity is flaring up everywhere, but I'm looking for one in particular, and Bobby thought Ash's computer program could help weed out the others."

"Let me guess, this the same ya-who your daddy's been chasing since you were in short pants?" She asked.

Dean looked at her measuringly. "Something like that."

She snorted again. "Damn close-mouthed Winchesters." She muttered, before hollering at the the top of her lungs "Hey! Ash! Get your ass out here and bring your laptop." She handed Dean a shot.

"You're gonna need that." She instructed.

Dean took it like a man.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Sam studied the cards in front of him. Unlike Ava's static layout, as Sam flicked the cards up from the deck, one by one, they floating in midair, in a slowly evolving pattern that was becoming more distinct with each card he added.

Anselm was watching carefully. Though not the talented reader that Sam and Ava were, the magic Sam was working was so powerful, clear and concise, that even Anselm was able to read it as easily as he read latin.

"Are they saying what I think they're saying?" Anselm asked, coming to stand closer, brows raised in surprised.

"That would be...interesting." Sam allowed with a raised brow of his own. "But, yes, I think you're reading them right. Azazel's sense of humor has always been...twisted."

"That's one way of putting it." Anselm snorted. "How fast can we get there?"

"Quickly enough. He hasn't made his move yet. If the cards are accurate, I'd say we have another...two days?" Sam looked over to his brother for confirmation.

The concentration required to run the spell made him want a second opinion of the spell's results. It wasn't a lack of power that made the reading difficult, quite the opposite, in fact. It was controlling the extra power that tried to escape every time Sam opened the mental cage he kept his abilities locked in. Sam had spent centuries perfecting his control, but the scope of his power made the battle ever ongoing, like using the Wall of China to hold back the Red Sea.

Anselm tilted his head. "Ava would have been better for this, but yeah. Two days, tops. I'm guessing more like eighteen hours. Midnight, day after today?"

"I think your right." Sam agreed, closing his eyes and allowing the cards to fall gracefully to the ground. He mentally reigned in the power that was swirling around, taming it through sheer force of will. It retreated angrily, like a caged wolf. Wordlessly, Anselm handed Sam his flask of demon's blood, and Sam emptied it without opening his eyes.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Jake grinned as head ripped the head off his opponent with his bare hands.

Fighting Demons was so much more satisfying than fighting Vampires.

From his right, Lily laughed out loud and Jake assumed she agreed with him.

She stood in a circle off bodies, flexing her hands, which crackled with a dark light not unlike electricity.

Max had two opponents up against the wall as he approached them, blades in both hands.

They had stumbled onto the demons quite by accident, but they would never turn down a chance to take out the competition. Every one of Azazel's loyalist the took out, tossed back to hell, was one less soldier he had topside.

Plus, as already mentioned.

It was fun.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

John ran his hands through his disheveled hair.

He'd spent years cracking this code, and he was so, so close.

He'd nearly let Sam's return upset his plans, obscure his goal. He'd wanted, so badly to go to Dean and join in the search for Sammy, to see for himself if any part of his youngest was still hidden away inside the demon Azazel had created.

But he knew that had to be Azazel's plan, why he'd freed Sam after all this time.

His motel room was chaotic, with photos, letters and maps tacked up along all the walls. Books and newspapers were stacked haphazardly everywhere on the floor. Signs of demonic activity were popping up everywhere, but finally, the two decades he'd spent tracking this particular demon were paying off. By now, he could take one glance at an article and know if the activity was likely to be Azazel, or some other hellspawn.

He moved the pins on the map quickly, jotting notes, crossing out locations as he ruled them out.

Finally, he stood, looking at the finished product.

One town was left circled on the map, and this time John was finally, finally ahead of the bastard.

The signs had just begun, and this time, John would be there.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"Dude, you're never gonna believe this." Ash said excitedly, as he drained in beer in one final chug.

"What did you find?" Dean asked impatiently.

"Chill, man. I got this." Ash said as he laid his computer down on the bar for both Ellen and Dean to see. Dean wished she wasn't looking also, but he couldn't exactly ask her to leave her own bar, not unless he wanted an ass shot full of buckshot, anyway.

The sardonic grin on her face suggested to Dean that she knew exactly want he was thinking.

"So, I put all your crazy date into Molly, she's my computer." Ash began, and Dean forced down his temper.

"Immediately, towns started popping up, first around twenty two years ago. Then, a second round seven years ago. Then the cycle started all over again, just a few weeks ago."

"And now?" Dean asked excitedly.

"A new round just started, and check out the town, man." Ash said, as the mapping program arrowed in on a town highlighted in yellow.

"Salvation, Iowa?" Ellen asked in disbelief.

"I know, right? Talk about ironic." Ash said, bobbing his head.

Dean was already heading out the door.

"Dean!" Ellen shouted, but he didn't reply.

"Wonder where he's going." Ash said companionably, and she arched an amused eyebrow at him.

"I'm guessing he's going to get saved." She said wryly.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Yay, Chapter 21 is somehow up and running. I am currently typing form my Mom's room in the hospital. She is sleeping so I am typing! Hopefully, we are coming to the end of the stupidly short chapters, as my life starts to get a little less crazy. Also, for everyone who has followed Tuesday's Child, I apologize, the original goal was to post the first real chapter today, then try to post every second Tuesday after that, but my mom's heart attack kind of through it off. The good news is, the story line is finally starting to gel for me. I might get a chapter up tomorrow, but most likely, it will be next Tuesday.**

**Thanks for your patience.**

**Okay. I have gone ahead a created the forum. The address is :**

** myforums/RavensGame/5857781/**

**I don't expect anyone to feel obligated to use it, and I always love reviews, but I thought I would try it out as a tool to help with this particular project. There are a few threads I established myself, one dealing with plot holes, I personally have found three/four this week, and so if you guys catch any, please feel free to let me know. The second thread is for questions, and the third is for readers interested in helping me Beta Test a few ideas for this story, so it has a major spoiler warning. If you choose to follow any thread, it should send you email alerts. It is an open forum, so you guys could start your own threads too, as long as nobody flames, I won't care. Constructive criticism is always welcome, hate mail is not. **

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox. No sandboxes allowed in the ICU.**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter 21**

"**Salvation Is A State Of Motion"**

_Ava continued speaking, the words running like water, like they had a life of their own._

"_Whatever we would have been, whoever we would have been, they died in the pit. Whatever our destines would have been, our fates, our futures, Hell erased it. Hell erased it all. We were left with nothing but power and anger and each other, and a driving need to get out and get our revenge. When we escaped hell, we carved a bloody swath through the pit. More demons died the day we escaped than during the whole of the last crusade. Two of my brothers died that day, too. There had been nine of us, Dean. You never met them, because Ethan and Danny didn't didn't even make it to the gate. They survived the torture, the starvation and the demon's blood, just to be cut down steps away from freedom and there will never be a day that their names don't echo in our heads, two more lost kids, along with all the others who didn't make it out. But the seven of us did. We carved our freedom onto the bodies of our captors. And now we're out, and no one, no one will make us go back. We will burn this world down before we submit again. We are the things that monsters fear. And Sam is our King."_

_Dean shook his head again. "That doesn't make any sense, though. I've done the research. All of you were the same age, you were all born within a year of each other. You were all fifteen when you were taken, but you're sure as hell not anymore. You said a soul remains whatever it was when you die. You guys all look the age you would have been if you stayed topside. Why aren't you all still fifteen?"_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam and Anselm arrived in Salvation only a few hours later.

"Start checking hospital records, look for any infant that would have a six-month birthday this week. And keep on the lookout for any of Azazel's men." Sam ordered curtly.

Anselm nodded and vanished silently, Dante trotting obediently at his side.

Sam walked to the approximate center of town, locating a small park with a dense grove of trees toward one corner.

The magic he had worked earlier had been intense, but not particularly creative.

His powers, like his siblings, had been growing exponentially, and now he was curious to see just what he could pull off. The trick was to make sure he didn't overtire himself. If he could locate the family Azazel had targeted prior to midnight, Anselm could guard the house while Sam refueled. Without the colt, there was no guarantee that he could destroy Azazel, even with an angel blade, but now was as good a time to find out as any. With only Anselm with him, the others were safely out of dodge, and it was entirely possible the angel blade could do significant damage to Azazel.

If that were the case, Sam needed to know it.

Coming to stand in the shade of the gently swaying oak trees, he reached into his pocket and once again withdrew Ava's deck of cards. Shuffling them effortlessly without so much as glancing at them, the cards flowed back and forth between his hands before the entire deck snapped neatly into his right hand, leaving only one card remaining in his left.

The Jack of Spades.

With a swift motion, he sliced the edge of the card across the meat of his forearm, leaving a welling, crimson line. He tossed the blood-edge card up with a flick of his wrist. It flew up high, spinning like a pinwheel, and as it started to fall, it _changed_.

One moment it was a playing card, the next it was gleaming, ebony-feathered Raven.

"Quite right, too." He murmured, watching as the raven shot off into the sky. Reaching up, he hooked a hand around one of the lower hanging branches of the nearest tree, hitching himself effortlessly up into the crook of two branches. Leaning back against the trunk, he closed his physical eyes, and began instead to watch through the eyes of the raven as the tracking spell took flight.

Literally.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean slowed as he approached the hospital entryway.

There, in the shadow of the building's far corner, he saw a familiar shape. A sleek black dog lay patiently in the shade, awaiting the return of it's master. Dean recognized the animal almost instantly.

Dante.

That meant Anselm was around here somewhere.

For once, Dean had (albeit, accidentally) managed to find one of the kids before they found him. If Anselm was around, maybe Andy was, or even Ava.

Was Sam close by?

Changing his game plan at the last moment, he turned around and climbed back into his loaner truck and sank down, watching the hospital entrance and waiting.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

John studied his son through the binoculars from the roof of the building opposite of the Salvation Medical Center. Dean looked good, all things considering, but John worried about him hunting with only one good arm.

Still. He'd obviously managed to handle the harvest God.

And somehow, he'd either managed to track Azazel or John himself, which was a rather impressive feat.

But who was he watching for?

John watched Dean, biding his time for the next several hours. When Dean sat up straight from where he'd been slouching behind the wheel of Bobby's second-best truck, John sat up straighter also.

Following Dean's line of sight, he shifted the binoculars to the entrance of the hospital.

A young man had walked out, heading to the corner where it appeared his dog had been waiting for him. Something about the way the boy moved set off alarm bells in John's mind, and he looked at the young man's face again.

Suddenly, the man looked up and out, straight at where John was hiding, and if John didn't know better, he'd swear the kid (he was barely an adult) looked straight at him.

Suddenly, for just a split second, the boy's eyes flickered dark, and the hairs on the back of John's neck stood up.

He recognized the features now, had spent seven years looking at this child's photograph, just as he'd stared at Sam's, and forty-one others.

He was one of the missing kids, like Sammy.

That meant he was a demon, and if Sammy were here also, then John had to rethink his entire strategy. John wasn't one hundred percent sure that his theory about Sam being released to upset John and Dean was entirely correct, but he was positive that Sam and the other stolen kids were dangerous.

Missouri had said that Sam and the others wanted revenge, and John knew firsthand just what a quest like that could cost.

There was no telling what Sam would do, and John had to decide if catching Azazel was worth outing himself to Dean and Sam at this point.

It was enough, perhaps, that John had cracked the code. Without the colt, he had no chance to defeat the demon anyway, but if he held back, he could observe Azazel, Sam and Dean, and finally get a better idea of where all the pieces on the board actually were.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam watched through the eyes of the raven as the bird circled the town in an ever widening pattern.

Suddenly it veered off to the left, dodging and diving but moving steadily west. It aligned itself with a quiet, well maintained residential street, and down below, Sam could see the silhouette of a woman pushing a stroller up the driveway to a white two-story house. Controlling the bird with a mental command, he urged it to land on a car next to the sign at the corner of the street.

Aspen and Fourth Street.

Back in his perch in the oak tree, Sam opened his own eyes, snapping his fingers and with a quiet crackle of energy, the card returned itself to Sam's hand.

His phone rang then, and he answered calmly.

"Sam." Anselm gave his usual one word greeting, though this time Sam sensed something was up.

"I have the address." Sam said.

"I have company." Anselm answered in wry amusement.

Sam frowned. "Azazel's men?"

Anselm laughed lowly. "Better. Dean. And...John." Anselm said the word lightly, like he didn't realize that Sam's emotions had shifted, and now the oak tree in which he was his had started shedding it's leaves.

"Really." Sam's voice remained calm, but a few more leaves rained down from the now nearly half-bare branches.

"Don't suppose I can kill one or the other or just someone in general?" Anselm asked hopefully.

Once, again, Sam reined in his power. It was unfortunate that Dean was here, and even more so that John was, but neither man was a slouch when it came to hunting or tracking, so perhaps it was inevitable. Ideally, at this point, he would have Anselm lead Dean and John on a merry chase out of town, but if either were tracking Azazel and not Sam, they would remain anyway, and Sam would then be without his own back up.

Additionally, Sam needed to refuel.

Better to keep his enemies close and his family closer, then.

"Fourth and Aspen. Wait and watch. Don't move until I come, no matter what." Sam ordered.

"And Dean and John?" Anselm asked seriously.

Sam thought for a moment. "We only need one. Don't hesitate to protect yourself."

"Got it, Boss." Anselm hung up, and Sam looked out through the leave-less branches.

What to do, what to do...

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean followed Anselm as the man (boy) walked easily down the sidewalk as is he didn't have a care in the world. At times, Anselm appeared the same as any other college kid, jeans and t-shirt and messy hair, but at other times, he moved to quickly, to lightly on his feet...like a predator.

"Where the hell are you going, buddy." Dean muttered as he did his best to follow in his truck. Anselm appeared to be in no hurry, for which Dean was thankful, as traffic in Salvation wasn't really heavy enough to provide good cover.

Anselm turned a corner onto a quiet, residential street, looking around curiously. Slowly, he walked over to a white house near the corner, staring up at the second floor inquisitively, with his head cocked to one side, almost as if he were listening for something.

Then he vanished.

"Motherfucker!" Dean cried, banging his hand against the steering wheel.

He jumped when a sudden knocking on the driver's side window nearly hand him pulling his weapon in broad daylight.

Anselm was on the other side.

"What the FUCK!" Dean cried, irritated that he'd been caught and even more irritated that he'd been scared.

Anselm calmly walked around and let himself in on the passenger's side. "Hello to you to." He said, before slouching down and, for all intents and purposes, going to sleep.

"What the hell are you doing? And what are you doing here?" Dean said angrily.

Anselm opened one eye. "Listening. And tracking Azazel."

"Listening to what? And who is Azazel?" Dean asked, heart beating quickly all the sudden.

Anselm sighed and slouched lower, eyes remaining closed. "Azazel is the Demon I'm hunting. He also happens to be the demon Sam, you, your father and half the world is hunting. Did you think he was simply called 'the demon'?"

"What kind of name is Azazel?" Dean snarked back.

"An old one." Anselm answered. "Now, I'm listening for trouble. Why don't you watch for trouble, and when the time is right, we'll get this taken care of."

"And how will we know when the time is 'right'?" Dean asked angrily, wondering how his whole stakeout got so out of hand.

"When Sam shows up." Anselm replied.

"Sam's coming?" Dean asked, excitement making his muscles tense.

"Has he ever not when he was needed?" Anselm muttered.

They were silent for a long time after that.

Several hours later, long after the sun had set, Dean noticed the wind had picked up. The wind chimes on the porch of the house they were parked in front of had started chiming madly.

The streetlight flickered several times, and the radio, which had been playing lowly, went to static.

"Demon." Dean breathed, starting to let himself out of the truck.

Anselm stopped him with an iron grip on his arm. "Wait for it." He said shortly.

"Wait for wha-" Dean's words were cut off when the streetlight suddenly went dark, the sound of the falling glass from the exploded light bulb barely reaching their ears over the rising wind.

"Sam's here now." Anselm said factually, letting go of Dean's arm.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Really kind of impressed that I have managed to update every night this month except for once (my mom's surgery). Thank you to all my kind readers who wished my mom well, as me as well. It really means a lot to me. She is doing well, hopefully she will be out of the hospital next week. I am still having some computer craziness, but I am doing my best to rise above it, lol.**

**So, I know I promised no more short chapters, this was just the natural stopping point.**

**Reviews are love, and have you all checked out my newest baby, "Tuesday's Child"? And if you're following Prisoner of War, yesterday's update was seriously dark (I like it, lol.)**

**All The Pretty Monsters -Chapter Twenty Two**

"**Things Lost In Flames"**

_She sighed. "Did you miss the 'living' part of the term 'Living Arch Demons'? It should never have happened, never been allowed to happen. It breaks about three thousand of heaven's little rules. The angels should have stopped Azazel, but instead they turned a blind eye. When the hell hounds dragged us to hell, they dragged us there alive, Dean. They killed everyone around us the night we were taken. Our families, our friends. The hounds slaughtered everyone within a city block of us when they came. They killed everyone, **but us**. We've been alive down there this whole time._

_Dean recoiled, horror washing through his body. "No, you said they killed you over and over again. Every damn day."_

_She shook her head, grinning at him, showing her teeth, more a snarl than a smile. "Doesn't count. Not really. The funny thing about hell is that nothing is real but the pain, so nothing really counts. Your body has to die topside in order for you to be really, truly dead. As long as we were already in hell, they could do whatever they wanted to us. Reality doesn't work the same way there. Either we woke up the next day, still truly alive, or we didn't wake up at all. Our bodies and souls kept growing. This is my body, Dean. Sam? That's his real body. If you kill me, you're actually killing me. You wouldn't end me, you'd just finally complete what Azazel started all those years ago. I'm alive. Sam's alive. We're alive, and we're demons and we're human too. Azazel needed us alive to grow stronger. Killing us just ends the human part of the equation. Then we really, truly become full Arch Demons."_

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Sam was standing in the front yard, as casually as if he were waiting for the bus, but Dean could sense the shifting currents of energy around him, and, to a lesser degree, to Anselm.

Sam had obviously come loaded for bear.

"Sam-" Dean began, but Sam cut his off with a swift hand motion.

"We don't have time, Dean. Azazel's inside, right now." Sam said with low intensity.

"Inside? Doing what?" Dean asked urgently. "Is he going after this family like he went after ours."

Sam nodded silently, intense eyes focused on his brother, and Dean felt a shiver go through him as he studied his brother.

Standing there now, under the light of the moon, Sam didn't look like the kid Dean had raised.

He looked like one of the monsters Dean hunted.

"Dean, go with Anselm. Azazel is in the nursery, and we need the parents out of the way." Sam ordered.

Dean shook his head. "No way, if Azazel is the one who killed Mom, then I'm gonna rip his heart out myself."

Sam arched a brow as he pulled out a gleaming silver blade that Dean remembered from the night of the car crash.

"One-handed and unarmed? Stay the hell out of dodge, Dean. You're out of your league here." He said darkly, a smile on his lips that didn't reach his eyes.

Dean had to fight not to recoil, because, for all that he knew that Sam wasn't human, was a demon, this was the first time he'd truly gotten a sense of just what that could entail.

He'd known Sam was powerful, but for the first time, he also realized that Sam truly was...dark.

Sam was a predator.

"Let's go." Sam said, vanishing even as he said the words.

Dean cursed and kicked in the front door, not caring how much noise he made. Already, he could hear screaming coming from the upper floor.

Two of the three people he'd spent his life looking for were upstairs, and that was where Dean was headed.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Flames were already dancing along the edges of the nursery, the child's terrified mother pushed against the wall and halfway up to the ceiling by the time Sam appeared in the doorway.

"Well, well, well. Little Sammy. Come back to apologize to Daddy?" Azazel sneered, as the door slammed shut behind Sam.

Sam bared his teeth at him. "Something like that." He replied, drawing out his angel blade, the firelight dancing along the blades edge.

"Oh, look. The little boy king has a shiny new toy. I'm so scared..." Azazel flashed a spiteful grin at Sam.

One corner of Sam's lips curled upward. "One new toy, and a few old tricks." He said, throwing his empty hand up and out as he pushed a charge of energy pulsing out at Azazel.

Azazel actually slid back a few steps before he managed to halt himself.

"Look whose been practicing." He cried, even as he threw up his own hand, attacking Sam with his own powers.

They were fairly equally matched, as they danced around each other in the burning room. It was hard to say who was stronger, Lucifer's most faithful servant, or the servant's creation.

Azazel had spent centuries growing stronger, more powerful and more vicious, but Sam had literally been engineered for power and his time since gaining his freedom had been well spent as he explored his growing abilities.

The baby, a little girl, wailed in fear as the two demons fought and her mother struggled valiantly to free herself from where Azazel's power still held her up against the wall. A particularly vicious attack from Azazel shoved Sam hard into the nursery's door frame, the angel blade clattering to the floor between the two opponents.

"Did you lose your new toy?" Azazel taunted, pitching his words over the crackling of the flames as smoke continued to fill the room.

Both the mother and child were coughing now, as the fire hungrily devoured the room's oxygen supply. Azazel remained unaffected, but Sam could feel the burn begin in his own lungs.

He ignored it, squaring his shoulders as he renewed his psychic attack on Azazel, this time using both hands to focus the wave of energy he shot at the demon, effectively pinning Azazel against the far wall as bits of flaming boards and plaster started to rain down.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

John watched the scene in the front yard of the white house with fear and concern, unable to move forward, unable to look away.

God help him, but it was _Sam_.

It looked like Sam, tilted his head the same way Sam had, the same unruly dark hair, he'd even managed to grow into his feet, an easy 6'3 or 6'4, by John's guess.

But his expressions, his hand gestures, and most of all, his eyes.

This was not the child that John and Mary had brought home from the hospital twenty-two years ago.

This was something else.

He watched as Dean and Sam appeared to argue, and then Sam vanished. Dean was obviously cursing, John's mind easily filling in the words from Dean's silent lips as Dean summarily kicked in the front door. Smoke was spilling from the upper windows, and John couldn't help the split second flash back he had of his own screaming wife, his own wailing child.

What the hell was Dean thinking?

John had warned him how dangerous Sam was, but he should have known better than to think Dean could ever walk away from his younger brother, even if the man who had stood before them was so obviously not that boy.

Dean was obviously fooled by the demon's surface appearance to the child he had practically raised, and now he was in danger.

Carefully, John eased forward, moving closer to the house.

How to get Dean out without alerting the others? If Azazel really was inside, then Dean had just walked straight into a trap.

A movement from the corner of the house caught his eye, and John stilled as a man he didn't recognize walked into view. The streetlight fell across his features only long enough for John to see the pitch black eyes, and then John struck, slashing the demon's throat even as he ran quickly through the shortest exorcism he knew. The demon was smoked out before he even knew what was happening, but John could hear footsteps coming out the front door, and he recognized Dean's voice.

Melting back into the shadows, he watched.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Azazel struggled briefly, but he was unable to free himself from Sam's hold. It was taking everything Sam had however, as Azazel was immensely powerful.

Changing tactics, Azazel smiled darkly at Sam then looked over to the screaming infant. The nursery's ceiling beams had caught fire by this point, raining down sparks and embers on the helpless child. With a flick of his eyes, Azazel used the last of his free power to wrench one of the heavy beams free of it's moorings, leaving it to fall directly unto the crib.

Instinctively, Sam lashed out, using power he didn't have to spare, halting the fan's descent, but he was effective pinned as well now, too, as both his abilities and his concentration were strained to the maximum.

Blood had begun to trickle from one ear as well as his nose. Azazel took advantage of Sam's distraction to begin pushing back against Sam's weakened hold, and as his attack on Sam grew in strength, the beam began to wobble haphazardly, only a few feet from the top rail of the crib.

The child's mother had resumed screaming out her fear for her child, still pinned, unable to rescue the little girl.

"What are you going to do now, Sammy? The Boy King... You think you can defeat me? I created you!" Azazel snarled as he slowly started gaining ground.

The door flew inward then, showing Dean and Anselm standing there, Anselm with his hands up and Dean with a gun in his good hand.

"Someone call the cavalry?" Dean asked, firing off his entire clip with unerring accuracy into Azazel, but the demon only laughed.

The smoke in the room was so thick it was nearly impossible to see now.

"Dean, the blade..." Sam gritted out, still splitting his concentration between the heavy beam and Azazel's massive power.

Dean looked down, throwing himself forward in a roll that allowed him to scoop up the blade as he dropped his gun. With his good hand, he tossed the blade with quick precision, but his balance was off, or perhaps the room was simply to smoky, because instead of hitting Azazel where his heart should have been, it struck his shoulder and he howled in pain and fury.

He disappeared with a surge of power so strong it blew out the nursery windows as both the angel blade and the child's mother fell to the floor with a crash.

Sam went to his knees, concentration now split one reeling in his power while not crushing the child.

"Sam! We have to go!" Dean cried, as the terrified woman rushed to the crib, scooping up her daughter.

She ran out of the room, sobbing and coughing. With a look at Sam, Anselm followed.

Sam looked over to Dean, eyes blazing. "You go. He's not gone, Dean. I can still feel him, he's close by."

Dean pushed himself up in Sam's face. "This place is two seconds from collapsing, if he's still here, let him burn!" Dean cried as he grabbed Sam's arm, literally dragging him out of the flaming room and down the stairs.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean didn't know what had happened in the nursery prior to when he and Anselm finally got the nursery door open, but whatever happened, it had obviously exhausted his brother.

The Sam he'd seen in action so far wouldn't allow himself to be manhandled, but now, Sam allowed (and there was no doubt he still had enough juice to turn Dean inside out if he'd wanted, so allow was definitely the right word) Dean to drag him out the burning building.

They nearly tripped over a body on the porch as they exited, and Sam knelt swiftly, placing a hand on the body.

Sam looked up then, searching the yards and the gathering crowds for something, but Dean had no idea what.

Sam looked over to Anselm. "He was exorcised, which mean's more could already be on their way."

Anselm nodded and vanished, and Sam strode over to Dean. Dean could see lines of exhaustion etched into his brother's face, and dried blood was flaking from under his nose and along one side of his jaw.

"Are you okay?" He started to ask, but suddenly Sam had him by his throat, pinned to a tree in the front yard. Dean started wide eyed at his brother as the white house burned down in the background.

Sam's eyes were stormy. "Never interfere again." He said in a cold voice.

"I saved your life." Dean replied heatedly.

"You interfered." Sam said again, letting Dean drop back to his feet as he turned to face the fire.

The nursery was nothing more than a mass of hungry flames, tongues of fire reaching out the window now, but for just a second, a dark shape stood in the window.

"Christ." Dean breathed.

Sam looked over stonily.

"I doubt the carpenter's kid had anything to do with it."

He started to walk away, but Dean grabbed his shoulder. "Sam, stop already, dammit. You can't just keep running off!"

Sam whirled on him. "Running off? Try running an army, Dean. I'm at war, and tonight was just a taste of what's to come. What do you think I've been doing, Dean? Thinking of ways to avoid you? You're a liability, you proved that tonight. STAY OUT OF THE WAY."

In an instant, he was gone, nothing but smoke and shadows and the faintest scent of sulfur.

Something gold and shiny lay in the grass, glittering in the firelight. Dean bent over, and picked up the amulet, still on it's black cord.

His amulet.

"Not likely, kiddo." He said fiercely, looking out into the night.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam paced back in forth, oblivious to his singed clothes and soot stained face. His mind was full of everything that had happened, and as he walked, his mind began to frantically assimilate information.

The blade had wounded Azazel, but even had Dean struck Azazel's heart, Sam was now certain that even an angel blade would be enough to kill him.

They needed the colt.

And John had been there, just as Anselm had thought. Sam had been able to smell John Winchester on the demon's body, the familiar scent of whiskey and gun powder and anger.

John had killed the demon, had he done it to protect Dean?

Dean.

Dean was a whole other problem. Yes, he had in fact saved Sam, or at least the infant, since Dean's actions had stopped Sam from having to cut his losses. However, he had also distracted Sam, dissuading him from going after Azazel. The power he'd had over Sam in that moment was dangerous, and if Sam's enemies learned of his weakness, than Dean was a dead man walking.

His phone rang, and he answered it tersely. "Yes."

"Sam." Ava's voice came from the other end. "Turn on the TV, any channel."

He waved his hand at the flat screen housed in his current office, and it came to life.

A pretty blonde news anchor was standing in front of the wreckage of what must have once been a jet liner.

"-only seven survivors out of almost two hundred..." She was saying.

"Is it Viaxes?" Sam questioned.

"Absolutely." She replied.

Sam thought for a moment. "He doesn't like survivors. Where are you?"

"Maryland."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Holy Crap! I sat down to write a kick ass chapter to make up for neglecting all of you guys while my life has been crazy and I think I nailed it!**

**Okay. So, much longer chapter.**

**But the best news? Give me half an hour and I'll have the next one up too. Crazy, but read on and you'll understand.**

**I'm actually giggling that I got this accomplished. Awesome!**

**PS, I'm also a Bones fan, see if you guys catch it...**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox**

**All The Pretty Monsters- Chapter twenty Three**

"**Always Fly First Class"**

_Dean shook his head mutely. "No." He finally muttered. "No. No, not Sam. Not Sammy. You said the human had to make a deal. Sammy didn't make a deal, would never make a deal. He fought tooth and nail when they came for him, that library was a bloody disaster."_

_She gazed at him, her face indicating she had an answer to his question, though she held her tongue._

"_Sam would NEVER make a deal." He insisted._

"_You're right. He didn't. None of us did." She stated plainly._

"_The deals were struck before we were ever born. Azazel exposed us to demon blood when we were just infants, Dean. On the night of our six month birthday. In Sam's case, the night Azazel killed your mother. He exposed us to the demon blood, and for fifteen years, it lay dormant, festering quietly. Azazel never planned to bring us to hell so early, but Gordon Walker sped up his time line."_

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Dean stood drinking his coffee as he watched Bobby flip through the TV channels dispiritedly.

He'd finally given in and come to Bobby's to rest for about a week. He had been desperate to go back out and look for Sam (or John) but his wrist had been getting un-maneagble with all the strain he'd been putting on it. It had needed time to heal.

Additionally, simply put, he was out of leads. Sam was no where to be found, and neither were the other kids.

John was still AWOL, and Dean vacillated between worry and fury. He knew John was doing what he felt to be right, but he felt lost without his father's firm guidance. But he also knew that until he found the words to convince John to give this new Sam a fighting chance, it was better if John were away.

He still wished he knew where John was though.

Azazel had gone to ground, even Ash's computer program couldn't pick up any other signs of him. Not that there weren't signs of Demon activity everywhere, just not signs of the demon Dean wanted.

Fires, murders and general weirdness abounded everywhere. Dean wondered how much of the mischief was caused by normal demons, and how many incidents Sam's crew was behind.

Take the news tonight, for example.

"Look at that. Whole damn plane full of people..." Bobby muttered as he paused on the nightly news. The crash was the big deal on the news, the jetliner had been at full capacity when it crashed.

"You know, that's the third plane crash out on the east coast in the last three weeks." Bobby said loudly, and Dean could tell his coffee hadn't just been coffee.

Normally, Dean would have joined him in that regard, but nowadays he never knew when something unexpected was going to happen, and he had become slightly paranoid about the shit hitting the fan when he wasn't ready for it.

"Third one in how many weeks?" He asked interestedly, coming to stand closer to the screen as the camera zoomed in on the crash sight, still cordoned off, some of the wreckage still smoking.

"Third. Sure as hell won't catch me in a plane..." Bobby was muttering into his cup again, but Dean was no longer listened, eyes glued to the television screen.

A crowed had gathered beyond the crime scene tape, and as the camera panned across the crowd, three familiar faces jumped out at Dean so hard he nearly dropped his coffee.

Andy, Ava and Sam.

Bingo, baby.

"Bingo, baby!" He said out loud in his excitement, and Bobby looked up, confused. "Why bingo, baby?"

"Bobby." He announced, a determined look in his eyes. "I'm going to Maryland. But I'm sick of paging through books for the information we need. We need to take more direct action. This is what I'm thinking...

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Sam studied the various pieces of wreckage strewn about the warehouse. It had been a simple matter for Andy to convince the FBI agents working the case to allow them in, they'd even been quite helpful.

Andy and Ava had been right, this had Viaxes's stink all over it. He looked over at Ava.

"How many survivors?" He asked.

Her eyes met his, one brow lifted. "Seven, originally. Six now, as one crashed in a private plane just this morning."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. Viaxes was known for being almost manic about killing off survivors.

"Any of the others likely to fly any time soon?" He asked.

She shook her head. "Well, one guy checked himself into a mental ward. Two others are being treated for anxiety, and one man actually survived the wreck only to have a heart attack afterward. Of the other two, one is pregnant and swears she'll never fly again. My guess is lucky number six."

"And why is that?" Sam asked in amusement.

"She's a flight attendant." Ava announced smugly.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

"What's the demon's name again?" Dean asked, holding the phone with his shoulder as he drove the busy east coast highway.

"Viaxes, though he's just usually called 'The Traveler'. There are stories about this thing hundreds of years old. Plane wrecks, train wrecks, boats sinking. This thing likes to make a mess, and it likes to do it in a big way." Bobby said, voice staticky over the mobile phone.

"Sounds like a match. Wonder what Sam wants with it?" Dean mused out loud.

"If this thing is as old as the books say, my guess would be information. Sam always was the sort to do his research. Maybe he's looking for a weakness of the Azazel character, you said Sam's knife didn't work." Bobby suggested.

Dean frowned in thought. "Well, it definitely pissed him off, but from the looks of it, Sam wanted him dead, and that knife wasn't going to cut it. Have you found out anything about Azazel?"

"Other than the fact that he's older than sin and supposed to be twice as mean? Not a lot, he's a bit of a mysterious character. I found references for him as far back as the old testament, if you translate some of the names the right way. Maybe even as far back as the fall." Bobby stated.

"The fall?" Dean asked, navigated a tight turn.

"The Fall of Satan." Bobby elaborated. "Like I said, old and mean, and apparently damn near un-killable."

"Awesome." Dean muttered, pulling up to his destination.

"Oh, and Dean, one more thing." Bobby said.

"What's up?" Dean asked as he got out of his car and looked at the house in front of him. A few years back, Dean had assisted John with an exorcism at the house of an airport controller, and now Dean was ready to call in a few favors.

"This traveling demon, Viaxes? It doesn't like survivors. Legend has it it will pick through any victims who survived a previous attack."

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"We can't afford your little angel sidekick to show up while I'm interrogating Viaxes. Meet Andy and I at the airport." Dean ordered.

Ava glanced over. "Airplane full of screaming people and demons? I could have a lot of fun with that, Sam..."

Sam smiled darkly. "I'm sure. But Gabriel is bound to show up sooner or later, and the information I'm seeking is too sensitive for angelic ears."

"So, meet you at the airport." Ava confirmed. "Anything else need doing?"

"Just be ready for what we talked about. I'm sure he's going to make his move sooner rather than later, and it's most likely to be one of the three of us."

"Gotcha, boss. Don't worry. I have my story straight." She smiled menacingly.

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Dean opened his motel room door just as a pretty blonde, maybe twenty or so, was getting out of a cab right in from of his room.

She walked towards him as he locked up.

"Wrong room, sweetheart." He said gruffly as he started towards the Impala. She was a looker, and normally Dean would have hit on that faster butter melting in a skillet, but as much as it pained him to say it, it looked like he had a plane to catch.

He had tried everything he could think of to keep the flight attendant, Amanda Cummings, from returning to work tonight, but the woman had to be the hardest headed woman he'd ever spoken to.

"I doubt that. Singer said I was looking for a smart-ass with pretty green eyes and a prettier car." She replied sarcastically.

Okay, maybe Amanda Cummings was the second most hard headed woman he'd ever encountered.

"Who the hell are you?" He said, pulling up short.

"Jo. Ellen's my mom. Bobby sent these for you." She said, shoving a leather satchel into his arms. "You don't even want to know what I went through to get these to you on time.

Dean looked in the bag, impressed despite himself. "Shit, that was fast."

She nodded. "Bobby does good work He did the warding for some of the gear at the Roadhouse, too."

"Why didn't I see you there?" He asked, suddenly suspicious.

"I was on a job. I work the college campuses and high schools mostly. A lot of other hunter's can't blend there. You'd be surprised what some morons will do to go Ivy League." She replied. "You ready? I thought you had a plane to catch." She started towards Dean's car.

"Whoa, hey, you're not going with me." Dean protested.

She rolled her eyes. "Duh. I'm going to drive your car to the next airport, where Bobby is guessing the plane will land if this thing follows it's normal pattern. If those," She gestured to the bag in his arms, "actually work on whatever you're hunting, you'll need your car to load it into, won't you? And besides, I don't think they'll exactly pass airport security."

Dean swallowed nervously. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Right. Good idea." He nodded jerkily.

"Oh my god." She said, stopping to stare at him. "You're afraid of flying, aren't you?"

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Sam strode through the busy terminal with Andy at his side. People were milling about everywhere, and if Sam's plan tonight went awry, quite a few of them were going to die.

The devil's in the details.

"SAM!" A voice called over the noise of the crowd and Sam stopped in his tracks, sighing in annoyance as he pivoted to face his brother.

"Dean." He greeted the out of breath older man evenly, eyes flicking to Andy, who nodded and continued to the boarding gate.

"Sam, I know you're going after the traveler." Dean stated. "And I know the Traveler is going after Amanda Cummings."

Sam raised a brow. "I'm glad to see Bobby did his homework. Yes, I am, and if we don't wrap this conversation up, I'm going to be late."

Dismissing Dean summarily, he turned around again and started walking. Dean placed himself directly in his path.

"I'm going too." He announced firmly.

Sam's brows raised in amusement. "You? On a plane? A plane that is almost certainly going to crash?"

Dean swallowed. "You don't think it's going to crash, or you wouldn't risk getting on." He stated.

Sam looked at him, unimpressed. "What makes you think a plane crash could even hurt me?" He asked.

Dean shook his head determinedly. "You wouldn't risk it."

"Try me." Sam replied lowly.

"I'll take that bet." Dean replied in a low, furious voice of his own. "You might risk yourself, but if you had any doubts, you wouldn't have sent Andy ahead to get on that plane. You wouldn't risk your brother." Dean had to force the word brother out, nearly choking on it, but he managed.

Sam stared at him intensely for a moment. "If you interfere tonight, I can't guarantee that you and every other person on this flight won't die a fiery, painful death. You watch, you don't interfere, or I'll have Andy send you for maple syrup from Canada, understand?"

Dean narrowed his eyes. "I'm not your lackey, Sam."

Sam turned and continued walking. "You're also not a murderer, which is why you'll do as I say. You won't risk all those people."

Dean started walking beside him. "I guess we know where each others line in the sand is."

Sam chuckled. "Oh, Dean. You really don't."

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Dean buckled himself into his seat nervously. He'd bought his ticket at the last minute, and now he was wedged in between an overweight man and a grandmother knitting a scarf with needles that could not have been knowingly approved by security.

Sam and Andy were no where to be seen, though Dean knew they had gotten on the plane. According to his and Bobby's research, the Traveler would most likely strike forty-four minutes into the flight.

Forty-four was a big number in Biblical numerology, and it reminded Dean of the forty-three children who had been kidnapped. Had there been a forty-fourth child he and John had never tracked down?

"Sir." A pretty, red-haired attendant was leaning over to talk to him, and Dean glanced over at her name tag.

Amanda.

"I'm sorry, but you were directed to the wrong seat. Follow me please." She said politely.

Dean shoved down his alarm as he followed her. After a few moments, he recognized where they were going, though he'd never sat there before.

First class.

"Here you go, Sir. You're co-workers explained the mix-up to me." She said cheerily.

Dean looked over to where Sam and Andy were sitting. Andy winked.

"Actually, Amanda." Sam said, and Dean shifted in his skin uncomfortably, because something about Sam's voice was _wrong, _almost like when Andy had used his mojo on Haley and her brothers in Colorado, though Sam's voice wasn't quite like Andy's had been.

"We have a few questions for you." This voice contained a quiet thread of power, and Amanda's smile faltered for a moment.

"Well, I have been on my feet all day..." She said a little disjointedly as she sat at the fourth, empty seat beside Dean.

"Naturally." Sam said agreeably. "Now, Amanda, my friend Andy has a few questions about the crash..."

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Ava paced back and forth in the air port parking lot, desultorily filing her nails.

"Miss your flight?" The voice said from behind her.

She glanced over. "Run out of politicians to hassle?" She asked with false sweetness.

"I just wanted to check in on my favorite Demon." He replied, walking towards her. "I am curious, though. Who are you waiting for?"

"My grandmother." She replied sarcastically. "And how do you follow me, anyway?" She was genuinely curious about that little fact, since she knew Sam had done her angel warding himself.

"Security cameras. You might say they're my specialty." He replied blithely.

"Hmmm. You must watch a lot a TV, then..." She commented archly.

"Work hard, play harder." Gabe replied.

"Well, not to ruin your evening, but I'm working. I'm not going to get to kill anything, so no show tonight. Check back in to this station in a few days." She tossed at him.

His eyes narrowed. "I know you're searching for something."

She looked at him. "We're looking for a lot of things, a lot of people. Haven't you been paying attention?"

"What's the cure?" He said suddenly, and she paused in her pacing.

She turned away from him, resuming her walk, a little faster now. "A fairytale they tell bad demons in hell to make them behave."

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Dean gripped his armrests tighter as they plane rocked slightly.

"Dude, it's just turbulence." Andy said, turning a page in his magazine.

"This plane is literally doomed to crash." Dean hissed at him, resuming his humming.

"Metallica. Good choice. And if you thought it was going to crash, you shouldn't have gotten on." Andy replied.

"You and Sam got on." Dean retorted.

"True enough. Sam's been wanting to talk to Viaxes for quite a while now." Andy agreed, turning the next page.

"About-uugghh." Dean groaned as the plane shifted again. "About what?"

"About a gun." Andy said idly.

Dean's eyes widened. "What, he's shopping for the armory?" He asked sarcastically.

"Years and years ago, a man, a hunter, named Samuel Colt created a gun, a weapon, and a set of bullets to go with it. This gun was special. No one has ever been able to recreate his process, but whatever he did, this gun is supposed to be able to kill anything. Hunters and demons have been searching for it since his death." Andy explained, never looking up.

"Sam wants it to kill Azazel." Dean realized out loud.

"Bingo." Andy replied, and Dean cut his eyes over to him, wondering if he was just toying with him now.

Feeling his stare, Andy glanced up. "Sam used to say it." He replied, shrugging, and Dean had to swallow against the tightness in his throat.

Sam returned then. "I've checked all the other cabins." He announced.

Dean frowned. "Checked, checked how?" He asked worriedly.

"No one died." Sam answered shortly. He turned to Andy. "That means it's either the pilot or the co-pilot."

Andy nodded. "I'll just go get our helpful stewardess."

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Lily closed her eyes, focusing.

She had this nagging feeling that something or someone, some _threat_, was close by. She didn't tend to have visions, but she'd learned to trust her instincts none the less.

Max came to stand beside her silently, a wordless show of support and a question at the same time.

She shook her head. "I've looked and looked. Someone's out there, but I can't find them. It's like their hidden, somehow.

Jake looked over from his map, frowning. "Who has the mojo to shield themselves from you?" He asked.

She frowned in thought. "Another Arch Demon, or a witch, if they were any good, maybe." She replied finally.

"What about a clan of vampires?" Jake questioned.

She shook her head. "Only if they were witches first."

"So who the hell is hiding, and why do they know to hide in the first place?" Jake wondered out loud.

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Dean watched, muscles tensed and ready for action as Sam and Andy restrained the writhing, struggling co-pilot. The man was practically foaming at the mouth as he yelled at them in Hellspeak.

"What's going on- Oh, my god!" Amanda cried as she walked through the curtains.

"Andy." Sam ordered as he finished drawing some kind of symbol on the man's chest.

"Got it." Andy replied, talking Amanda by the arm and walking her out again. From the cabin, Dean could hear as he began soothing upset passengers.

"Bedfeo, nox, tuuro d'nai!" The man hissed at them, and Dean struggled to remember the few words of Hellspeak Bobby had been able to pass on to him.

Something about darkness, and a...companion?"

"Yes, yes, I know. Same team and all that." Sam said, answering in English, and Dean wondered if it were for his sake. "Moving on to more interesting topics. Tell me about the Colt."

"Hi'rai tuuro conak dei!" It hissed at them again.

"I'll rue the day, and so forth." Sam murmured to Dean quietly, and Dean was reminded of all the times Sam had translated a Latin text for him. He wondered if Sam even realized he was doing it now.

"Little Boy King." The man suddenly said in a low, sibilant whisper, in English this time.

"No need for introductions, then." Sam replied coolly.

The man turned to Dean. "And the Michael Sword." He jabbered, and beside him, Sam stilled as Dean's mind began to whirl.

"Boy King? Michael Sword?" He asked, looking to Sam.

Sam was staring intently at the man. "Is Dean the Michael Sword?" He asked, eyes locked onto the Traveler.

The thing inside the co-pilot began to laugh. "Little boy lost, and his big brother playing kings and heroes. The war is coming, and the rivers will run red with blood. The Dark God will walk and the angel's will weep."

Sam watched silently, listening intently to every word and Dean had no doubt Sam was understanding much more than he was.

"One for Heaven, one for Hell, but one's still needed to turn the key. Righteous men are rare indeed, like runaway demons who live and breathe..." It's voice was taunting now, and whatever Sam had done to restrain it's powers was obviously beginning to wear off, for the plane had begun to pitch up and down sharply, and Dean had to brace himself against the wall.

"Where's the Colt?" Sam demanded.

"Lost and found. Lost and found. A dozen pieces on the board and the chessmaster not around..." It continued to sing in a cackling, off pitch voice that made Dean want to cover his ears.

"The Colt!" Sam demanded, swiping downward with his hand and the man screamed, back arching like he was having a seizure.

"Sam!" Dean cried in alarm, scared he was going to kill the demon's host.

"The Colt." Sam replied coldly, completely ignoring Dean.

"Lenore knows..." It gasped finally.

"Who's Lenore?" Sam demanded, but the plane pitched violently again, this time hard enough to knock both Winchesters down.

Andy stuck his head through the curtains. "Sam. I can see the nearest city. We're probably closer than we should be...to the ground." He offered in an amazingly calm voice as his words filtered through Dean's mind.

"Jesus." He muttered, struggling to gain his feet.

Sam looked at Andy, then at Dean, pressing his lips together for a moment before breaking into a rapid fire chant in Latin. Dean recognized it as an exorcism, though it was one he'd never heard before.

In front of his eyes, the demon began to smoke out, but it looked different, somehow. The smoke had a red tinge to it, and it seemed to evaporate as soon as it cleared the man's body.

"You're killing it." Dean whispered in shock. "There's an exorcism that kills them?"

Sam nodded tersely without breaking stride.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ruby watched from the shadows as Gordon beheaded yet another vampire.

Damn, but this man was boring.

She couldn't believe this was Azazel's secret weapon to use against Sam. He was stupid, ignorant and biased, and while that was normally decent fodder for any demon to work with, she'd been stuck running protection on him for weeks now.

Azazel wouldn't even allow her to move to the next phase yet, instead insisting that she merely use her spell work to shield the hunter from the view of other demons, particular Sam and his siblings.

She reminded herself again of how richly she'd be rewarded when Lucifer rose.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean checked his phone again, nodding to himself when he saw the text from Jo.

Everything was in place.

He followed Sam and Andy out to the airport parking lot. Ava met them there, and Dean watched while they talked for a few moments.

A little while later, they split up, Sam and Andy getting into a dark car, and Ava walking farther out into the parking lot.

Dean followed, sending a reply text to Jo where she waited.

' Now.'

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernaural**

_The girl sat proudly, despite the fact that she was both tied and chained down. The chair was situated in the center of a large red devils trap, circled by another ring of salt._

_Her voice echoed of the iron walls of Bobby's panic room as she chuckled lowly._

"_Well, Dean-o, I have to say, I'm impressed you went to all this trouble. You don't seem the type to try so hard to get a girl's attention._


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: You guys have no idea what a mile stone this chapter is for me. In case you haven't guessed already, this entire chapter is comprised of the prologue/interrogation that has been running at the top of every chapter. I literally wrote this chapter months ago, before I even did my outline, and I've been piecing it out as the chapters came out.**

**So that means my story has finally caught up with itself, lol. You will no longer see a prologue running along the tops of future chapters, unless I eventually use that tactic to give you guys a little glimpse of the special kids in Hell (I've been toying with the idea, but I'm not sure yet.)**

**Okay, if you've read every chapter until now, you could technically skip down to about the last four paragraphs or so, since that's the only part of this that hasn't been featured at the top of a chapter already. That being said, I'm rather proud of the prologue, since it really is what this story is based on, and it's pretty cool to read altogether in it's entirety. So, it's up to you guys, but I think it will add to the story if you do. The next chapter will pick up where this chapter ends, as the story is now in real time, and now Dean officially knows all the secrets you guys have known from the get-go.**

**This chapter is dedicated to my best friend (real life bestie, FYI) SandAllyMayhem, who not only helps me in about a million real world ways (like making me and my son dinner the day my mom had open heart surgery) but she is also really the only person in my real life who actively supports my writing. **

**Not to say my family doesn't, they just don't really understand it. SandAlly doesn't just proofread and follow and review and listen to me talk (endlessly, I talk about my writing endlessly) she is the only person who will call me up and ask me how my writing is going, if I am keeping up with my update goals, ect. As a friend, she is priceless to me, so this chapter is for her, because in reality, almost all my stories start with us and a bottle of wine at her kitchen table.**

**I love you SandAlley!**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. But this chapter is credited to my bestie, who loves me even when I come to her house with my son and my laptop, put in my head phones and ignore everyone while I type.**

**All The Pretty Monsters -Chapter Twenty Four**

"**The Devil's In The Details"**

_The girl sat proudly, despite the fact that she was both tied and chained down. The chair was situated in the center of a large red devils trap, circled by another ring of salt._

_Her voice echoed of the iron walls of Bobby's panic room as she chuckled lowly._

"_Well, Dean-o, I have to say, I'm impressed you went to all this trouble. You don't seem the type to try so hard to get a girl's attention. The chains are a nice touch. Ancient Greek warding, right? That's of specialty of Bobby's, isn't it. That mean's were at Singer Salvage." _

_She shook her head slowly in sultry amusement. _

_"So predictable. You know my siblings are already coming for me, right? Or is that the plan. Capture my family, and lock them up down here? Capture my king?" Her eyes flashed and she lunged forward, as far as the chains would allow, a sleek black panther on a too-tight leash._

"_It won't work. You can't stop us. You can't stop him. Seven years in hell, Dean. That's 840 years topside. What in the fuck do you think you could possibly do to us? To me?" She leaned back, looking for all the world like she was a queen giving an audience._

_Dean scowled. "I can gank you?" He offered idly. _

_She smiled. "No, you can't. You don't have the mojo to truly destroy me. I'm a ____living Arch Demon__, Dean. Exorcisms won't work. You could kill my body, but my soul would just go back to hell. I'll just crawl right back out and grab a ride with the first pretty girl who catches my fancy. I've never been blond before. What's your little hunter friends name? Jo? Is that short for Josephine or-"_

_Dean cut her off, snarling "Azazel won't let you out of the pit again, sweetheart. You're no-fly with the king of hell."_

_She snarled right back again. "Sam is the only king I care about. And he'd come for me there, just as he's coming for me now." She smiled serenely this time. "Sam always comes for me."_

"_Maybe this time he won't." Dean offered._

_She looked at him pityingly."You really don't get it, do you? We're Sam's and he's ours. We are all that's left. Everything else burned away in hell, Dean. Our families, our hopes, our faith. Everything that we were, ____burned__. What's left is what Sam scooped out of the ashes."_

_She paused before continuing. "Sam is it. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in Lucifer. I don't believe in gravity. ____There. is. Only. Sam__." Her eyes flashed again. _

"_Sam always comes for us."_

_Dean's gazed sharpened at that, his eyes flicking up momentarily from the blade he was twirling in his hands._

"_And just how does that work, exactly." He queried._

_She groaned, rolling her head back and shrugging her shoulders. _

_"Oh, God, is that what this is? An interrogation? Trust me, hero. This is so ____not __your division." _

_Her eyes locked on his. "I grew up in a place where the skies rained blood, Dean. And that was on the sunny days."_

_"You called yourself an Arch Demon". He demanded, ignoring her banter. _

_She rolled her eyes again. "A living Arch Demon." She corrected. _

_"Better take notes, Winchester, this shit matters." She watched him in amusement._

"_What's the difference?" Dean asked snarkily. She shrugged inside her bonds. "I wasn't just created." She smirked. "I was born. We all were."_

_Dean's face darkened. "You wanna repeat that?" He asked dangerously._

_She raised a brow. "Do I need to explain the birds and the bees to you, Dean?" She asked with saccharine sweetness._

"_Cut the shit, Ava. You weren't born a demon. Sam wasn't born a demon." Dean yelled, slamming the blade of the knife into the armrest of the chair scant centimeters from her hand. _

_She watched disinterestedly._

"_Are you finished?" She asked in a bored voice._

"_Not even." He pulled the knife out and went back to leaning against the wall._

_"Start at the beginning." Dean commanded._

"_As in Genesis? Adam and Eve? Fall of Lucifer? Invention of Disco?" She asked, a wicked, fearless gleam in her eye._

"_You can skip forward a couple chapters." Dean snapped back._

"_Alright." She agreed. "Let me know when you have trouble keeping up. Seven years ago, a hunter named Gordon Walker killed a fifteen year boy by the name of Mark Gaines."_

"_Why would he do that?" Dean demanded in consternation. _

_Hunters didn't kill kids._

"_Walker had captured a minor demon who was possessing a sixteen-year old girl. He eventually exercised the demon, killing the host in the process, but not before the demon spilled the beans about Azazel's big plans for all the special children, like Mark." _

_She glanced up at Dean slyly._

"_Like Sam, and all the rest of us. Deciding to cut Azazel off at the pass, Walker started tracking down the special children. When Azazel's spies reported Mark Gaines's death to Azazel, he panicked. Unwillingly to risk Walker and other hunters killing off his pet project before it even got off the ground, he sent his hell hounds to drag the remaining forty-three living Arch Demons kicking and screaming to hell a little early." She paused, watching Dean's reaction._

_Dean's mind whirled. _

___Sam-Ava-Andy-Jake-Lily-Max-Anselm__...he knew the other names too, of course, had spent years pouring over newspaper clippings of the forty-two other children who had disappeared the same night as his brother._

_Now he knew why, why his brother had been taken, why ALL the children were taken, and he made a mental note to track down Walker, if he was still living, and remedy that situation._

_"You keep saying Arch Demons. What the hell does that even mean?" Dean said, narrowing his eyes and turning back to his captive._

_She raised her brows. "Now you're ready for demonic history 101?" _

"_Move it along, Ava, I'm getting a little antsy to use this blade." Dean threatened._

_She grinned again. _

_"Promises, promises. My teacher, Alistair would have loved you. Of course, that was before Sam gutted him as a birthday present for me one year. After that, I got...promoted. Until we left the company, of course."_

_Dean raised the knife promisingly, and she rolled her eyes. _

_"Fine, fine. All right. ____Demons__. Hell is full of demons. Lots and lots of demons." She said, making a face like she was trying to explain two plus two equals for to a grown man._

"_No. Shit." Dean ground out, but she ignored him._

_"There all many kinds of demons, many tiers of demons-"_

"_I know." Dean interrupted impatiently, aware that he was probably running short on time before his brother arrived._

"_No!" She snapped back seriously, perhaps for the first time since the interrogation had started._

"_You don't know. You really, truly don't. Demons are souls, Dean, human souls that get sent to hell when they die. Hell is... ____relentless__, like the tide, it wears you down and changes your shape. Most souls eventually just dissolve in the cloud of pain and suffering they call air down there. Slightly stronger souls retain their autonomy, but loose their memories, their minds. They're nothing but violence and hate given shape. Still stronger ones become the demons you're used to seeing, capable of possessing people and wrecking purposeful mayhem." She paused._

"_Like the Phantom Traveler." He supplied, falling under the spell of her words despite himself._

"_The very same. The longer they live, the more powerful they become, but the Arch Demons often kill any who get too strong. Demons are capitalists. We don't like competition." _

_"You said it again. Arch Demons. What are Arch Demons?" Dean demanded, sensing he was getting closer to the information he sought._

"_What I am." She supplied unhelpfully, "And what your brother is."_

"_Be. More. Specific." He ground out._

_She swallowed, then continued on, suddenly seeming reluctant. _

_"Azazel, his daughter Meg, Lilith, all the knights of hell, they're all Arch Demons." She watched him, catlike._

"_What does that mean? What makes you different?" He questioned sharply._

"_We're stronger." She replied. _

_"Hallowed ground doesn't affect us. Only a perfectly drawn devil's trap can hold us, and usually not for long. The effects of salt seldom work on us. Exorcisms are only as good as the exorcist. We have a variety of other abilities, it varies with the demon. And we have our own minds, our own wills. An arch demon is the most dangerous enemy hell could send after you."_

_"But how is an arch demon made?" Dean asked, horrified and determined by equal measures._

_She looked away. _

_She bit her lip. _

_Dean watched her, wondering what could be so bad that she was now being reluctant to talk about it after she had so willingly told him everything else._

_"Demon Blood." She said finally._

_He frowned. "All demons have demon blood."_

_"But we, the arch demons, were exposed before we were demons." She replied._

_Dean felt the floor tilt under his feet. "What did you say?" He asked, certain he had heard wrong._

_"Souls are born into living bodies, and they need living bodies to grow. The soul of a child that dies remains the soul of a child. It's nature might change, it might become a demonic child if in hell long enough, but it would always have the limitations of a child. Souls need adequate time in their living, human bodies to grow strong. That's where Arch Demons come in. Only another Arch Demon can create a new one. They pick a human, one with whatever skill or ability or personality they are looking for, and they make a deal. Then the human is exposed to Demon Blood."_

_"Exposed?" He asked, voice strained._

_Her eyes bored into his. _

_"Fed, Dean. The human is fed Demon blood. As much as the Demon can feed them while still alive. And every encounter, every exposure is like a hit of radiation to that soul, giving it powers, changing ones it already had. Then that person dies and goes to hell, where the transformation is complete. And there you have, an Uber Demon."_

_"That's what happened to you? To all of you?" Dean asked, voice breaking with the sheer horror of what she was saying._

_"That's what they did to Sammy?"_

_The thought of his gentle brother force-fed Demon Blood while trapped in Hell made Dean struggle with nausea for a moment._

"_That's what they did to all of us, Dean. All forty-three of us." She looked at him steadily, and he had trouble meeting her eyes. _

"_Between the demon blood and hell's hospitality, though, only seven of us made it out. I lost thirty six brothers and sisters in the pit. One by one, they went to sleep and didn't wake up. Just...gone, like they had never existed, like they didn't have hopes and fears and souls. Like they were nothing. Hell un-wrote them, Dean, but one day, I'll watch Sam carve their names into Azazel's skin."_

_Dean swallowed, still beyond words, but Ava continued relentlessly. _

"_One month topside, Dean, that's the equivalent of ten years in hell. That's how long they had to work on us down there. At first, it was just torture. They strap you on a rack, and they carve you up. They cut you open, and everything you ever were bleeds out onto the floor. When they pull you off and toss you into your cell, you pray, to God, to Allah, to Lucifer. You don't care if only it would stop. But then you wake up, the next day, all bright and shiny and new, a blank canvas to be painted red all over again."_

_She paused, eyes far away. _

"_You scream and you beg, until they cut out your tongue and you choke on your own blood. Sometimes they wear their own faces, but sometimes they look like someone else. Imagine your mother, your father, your brother, hands covered in your blood, Dean. Over and over again, until you don't remember what the wind feels like, or the sun and the rain. You don't remember music, or Christmas, or safety. So, eventually, some of us stopped waking up the next day. They weren't strong enough. They're a part of that place now, Dean. They were kids, and the demons took them away, and now they can never come back. That's hell."_

_"And Sam?" Dean asked, afraid to ask, terrified to ask._

_She looked at him steadily._

_"Sam was Azazel's favorite. First draft pick. Your families bloodlines combined with you're father's training. They called him the Boy King. It was a prophecy, an old one, that Azazel was determined to make good on. But Sam was stubborn, he was so damn stubborn. Azazel did things to him, things even I can't imagine. There are things they don't talk about afterward, Dean, even in Hell. But Sam wouldn't break, wouldn't bend. He refused to become Azazel's good little soldier."_

_Dean flinched at her choice of words, a thousand memories of a teenaged Sam fighting with their Dad flashing across his mind._

"_So what happened, then?" He asked, eyes glued to the girl in front of him. _

_She was no longer fighting her bonds, instead, almost rocking inside them as she told her story._

"_Azazel figured it out." She said darkly, her eyes a thousand years away. _

_She looked up, directly at Dean, and he was struck by the insane notion that he was somehow seeing her soul, bared in that moment the way winter strips a tree of it's foliage, the bones of it's bare branches stark against the January sky. _

"_He figured out what Sam was willing to kill for." She whispered, and yet her voice echoed, and Dean could imagine her words tracing their way up the walls and out the skylight, chasing themselves out into the universe, feral and broken and fearless and tragic._

"_What?" Dean replied, dread churning in his stomach._

"_Us." She spoke ominously. _

_"Thirteen of us had already died. Azazel had been keeping Sam separate all this time, a king doesn't bunk with his army. _

_But then Azazel realized that Sam wouldn't do what Azazel wanted just to protect himself. _

_So one day, he gave Sam a choice. They dragged me out of our cell by my hair, and then they brought out Sam. I hadn't seen him before. He stood there, defiant, and I couldn't understand how he could even stand at all. And then Azazel gave him a choice. They could put me on the rack, or they could strap Sam on in my place."_

"_Sam protected you." Dean said, heart breaking for the gentle little brother who'd sacrificed himself for another child deep in the bowels of hell._

"_He protected all of us. Some days it was me. Other days it was Andy, or Lily or Jake." She paused, then continued again. _

"_The torture never stopped, we were never off the hook. But they'd take us to the very edge of breaking, and then they'd give Sam the option of taking our place. And he did it. Every time. Sam never faltered. He never said no. It still gave them what they wanted, though. Emotional pain can twist you just as well as physical torture. He always knew it was coming. We always knew how bad they'd break us before they'd let Sam save us. They started putting him in our cells at night. We'd lay there, bleeding and freezing, and he'd talk to us. For hours, for lifetimes. I can't remember my mother's voice Dean. It burned away down there. But I remember Sam's voice. The lullaby that sang me to sleep in a cage in hell."_

_Dean watched her, wordless. _

_She raised her eyes to him. "Eventually, it wasn't enough for Sam to just take on our torture, our pain. It wasn't enough for him to bleed for us. Azazel had a plan, and he wanted more. So one day Azazel told Sam that the only way for Sam to get Lily off the rack was for Sam to choose someone from another cage, another prisoner, to get on in her place._

_Not one of us, not one of the special kids, just another soul. A random, faceless victim. Azazel told your brother that Lily had one chance to get off that rack. If Sam left her there, she was staying on until there was nothing left. So many of us had died by then, the thought of losing another was more than any of us could bear. And Azazel made Sam choose. Another piece of his humanity, or the life of one of us." _

"_Did he do it?" Dean asked tightly._

"_In a heartbeat." She replied, unsmiling. _

_"He went into the cell himself, and dragged out a victim for Azazel's games. He took my sister off that rack, and the next time Azazel made him choose, he picked someone else, and he took me off the rack. He took Jake off, and Andy. Everyone of us that survived, survived because Sam chose us over someone else. And we followed suit. We chose each other. Time after time after time. Azazel wanted an army, but Sam made us a family."_

_"Sam chose victims for Azazel?" Dean whispered in disbelief. _

"_He promised to protect us. So he did." Ava said fiercely, eyes burning into his._

"_They made us watch, they made Sam watch as they tortured the other souls. They made him stare straight at the consequences of his actions, the fallout of his choices. For years we woke up with nothing but the knowledge that it was either us or them. They would bleed or we would."_

_She watched him, drinking in his reactions. She'd waited lifetimes to tell this story._

"_Eventually, it becomes easier. You don't have the luxury of caring about every stupid little thing, not when you're in the pit. You stop worrying about all those little things your supposed to care about, that you're supposed to do in order to be a 'good person'. Down there, it's just the law of the land. Bad shit happens. Everything ends bloody. It's like having your house on fire, and you have to chose what to save. You decide what matters most, and you protect it viciously. So that's what Sam did. That's what we all did. We were all he had left, and he was the only thing most of us could even remember." She paused, closing her eyes._

_"And when it was no longer enough for Sam to just watch, to simply choose the victims, Alistair pressed the knife into Sam's hands. Another day, another choice, another tattered piece of Sam's humanity. You might say everything in hell is high stakes. But Sam didn't even hesitate. He cut into his victim and Azazel laughed and we lived another day. And Azazel did it again and again and again. But Sam kept us safe, he always chose us. Then, one day, I was standing next to Sam, and he guided my hand as I carved my freedom into another's skin. And do you know what, Dean? It felt good." She actually snarled, straining against the ropes that bound her._

_Her eyes were lit from within, and a fire burned inside her words, scorched across Dean's skin as they tumbled from her lips._

"_Every soul down there earned it. By their choices, by their actions or by making a deal. Every single soul down there had a choice but us. We were the only innocents in hell. No other children in the history of mankind have ever grown up in hell, been raised, in hell. So yeah, it felt good. We were the only ones who never got a damn choice. Heaven turned a blind eye, Dean. We were forsaken. So when Hell gave us a choice, we took it. And we were good at it. We defeated the dark by taking ownership of it."_

_"That's how we survived, Dean. We cut our way out of our cages, with Sam in the lead. But we didn't obey Azazel. Not truly. He only thought we were giving him what he wanted. We've never belonged to him. He thought he owned us, that we were his own army, his pretty little monsters. But we were never his. We will never be his. We are Sam's, the ones of us still alive, anyway." Her eyes were far away in that moment, and Dean's mind raced, listing off the memorized names of all the other children taken at the same time as Sam._

_The ones he hadn't met yet._

_The ones he never would. _

_She swallowed, looking at him with an angry, defiant expression. "Even Sam couldn't save all of us. But the six of us, he saved. We did what they wanted. We pretended to be their good little soldiers. When they told us to drink the demon blood, we did it. Sam did it. Because he knew it would be us that Azazel punished if he refused. The more we drank, the more we needed. The more we drank, the more our powers expressed themselves, expanding, like you couldn't believe. Your mind can do so many things, if you just let it. We grew stronger with every drink, every cut, every burn. I'm nearly 900 years old Dean, and all those years but a handful were spent in the pit. They made us practice until our powers were second nature, until blood and violence and pain was the only normal we knew. The repercussions for failure were...not fun."_

_Dean shook his head again. _

_This didn't make any sense. _

"_But why go to all the trouble in the first place, just to create some kind of super soldiers? What's Azazel's game? And you and Sam keep talking about the angels, but where the hell are they? If they really do exist, why would the angels let any of this happen?"_

_She laughed. "Let? Dean, I hate to break it to you, but the tree toppers aren't the good guys. They helped, Dean. See, God's gone missing. Been missing for centuries, since right after the carpenter's kid bit the dust. But before God took a powder, he spun the Angels a pretty little bedtime story about good and evil and the end of days and a big, final battle. Whoever wins gets whatever they want, their own version of paradise on earth. We're talking about the big dogs, here, Dean. The top two Arch Angels, the most powerful warriors to ever come out of Heaven. Lucifer and his big brother, Michael, going one on one in one giant, final prizefight."_

_Dean stared at her, aghast, "Lucifer, you mean, as in..." He trailed off, unable to believe she was serious._

"_Satan? The Devil? The Father of Sin? Yeah. That one. See, he was an angel, once, until he got in a fight with daddy over a silly little thing called the human race, and he rebelled, creating the demon race in the process. To the other demons, Lucifer is their god. But Lucifer lost the first round, and God had Michael cast him down, deep into the pit. He's been trying to get out ever since. Now, the angels are back-handedly helping Azazel, because the final battle can't happen until Lucifer escapes the box Michael locked him in, deep in hell. The cage to outlast all cages." Ava laughed bitterly._

_"But why would the angels want to start a battle that would destroy half the earth?" Dean asked incredulously._

_She looked away, and Dean swore for a moment she actually looked...sad._

"_The angels aren't what you think they are, Dean. They're not caring, they're not kind. They're a whole other race, that's been following directions from an AWOL God for millennia. To them, the rapture is something to look forward to. They've been babysitting humanity for centuries, and they're tired of it. Now, Michael and the others have decided to jump start the prophecy, and along with it, the end of days. See, they think they can win, and the demons, they think they can win, but the big fight can't even start until Lucifer's box is popped. That's where we come in."_

"_What do you mean?" Dean asked with numb lips._

"_Certain things have to happen, in order for Lucifer to rise. Some of those things, Azazel and his goons can accomplish on their own. Others, though, require...a more specialized kind of demon."_

"_Like Sam." Dean breathed._

_Turning back to him though, her voice was like steel. _

"_Exactly like Sam. And me, and all the other kids. We were created, Dean. Created to serve as Azazel's army. We were born to break the world, and before this is all over, everyone, the angels, the demons, will finally understand exactly what they have unleashed, what they helped to create."_

_"But why were you, Sam, any of you picked in the first place, just, what...the wrong place at the right time?" Dean demanded._

"_Bloodlines." She replied. _

_"It all comes down to that, in the end. Azazel needed certain things. Intelligence, strength, bravery, but most of all, he needed us to have a certain...pedigree. Certain human bloodlines create more powerful demons. You and Sam? You're the final links in the Winchester bloodlines. All the living arch demons come from families with powerful bloodlines, power that could be adapted to jump start an arch demon. My family line, your family line. Lily, Max, Jake. Andy and Anselm are actual twins, did you even know that? Azazel did. He hunted down the strongest of the human bloodlines, and he cherry picked the kids who fit the bill. It could have just as easily been you who was taken, Dean. You were just too old by the time Azazel came around." _

_Dean recoiled in horror at her words, but she continued on. _

"_They wanted to build a better demon, and they succeeded. No fear. No doubt. No hesitation. None of the heavy morality that humanity imposes on itself out of some misguided perception of good and evil. Just strength, and skill and power. Nothing but want and take and driving, forward motion. The ultimate predator. We're smarter, we're faster, and we're infinitely more dangerous than anything you or anyone else on this planet has ever encountered, because we don't just have nothing left to lose. Suicides have nothing left to lose. What we are, Dean, is worse, we're so...much...worse. Because we've already lost everything, and that means we have everything to gain."_

_Ava continued speaking, the words running like water, like they had a life of their own._

"_Whatever we would have been, whoever we would have been, they died in the pit. Whatever our destines would have been, our fates, our futures, Hell erased it. Hell erased it all. We were left with nothing but power and anger and each other, and a driving need to get out and get our revenge. When we escaped hell, we carved a bloody swath through the pit. More demons died the day we escaped than during the whole of the last crusade. Two of my brothers died that day, too. There had been nine of us, Dean. You never met them, because Ethan and Danny didn't didn't even make it to the gate. They survived the torture, the starvation and the demon's blood, just to be cut down steps away from freedom and there will never be a day that their names don't echo in our heads, two more lost kids, along with all the others who didn't make it out. But the seven of us did. We carved our freedom onto the bodies of our captors. And now we're out, and no one, no one will make us go back. We will burn this world down before we submit again. ____We are the things that monsters fear.__ And Sam is our King."_

_Dean shook his head again. "That doesn't make any sense, though. I've done the research. All of you were the same age, you were all born within a year of each other. You were all fifteen when you were taken, but you're sure as hell not anymore. You said a soul remains whatever it was when you die. You guys all look the age you would have been if you stayed topside. Why aren't you all still fifteen?"_

_She sighed. "Did you miss the 'living' part of the term 'Living Arch Demons'? It should never have happened, never been allowed to happen. It breaks about three thousand of heaven's little rules. The angels should have stopped Azazel, but instead they turned a blind eye. When the hell hounds dragged us to hell, they dragged us there alive, Dean. They killed everyone around us the night we were taken. Our families, our friends. The hounds slaughtered everyone within a city block of us when they came. They killed everyone, _**but us**_. We've been alive down there this whole time._

_Dean recoiled, horror washing through his body. "No, you said they killed you over and over again. Every damn day."_

_She shook her head, grinning at him, showing her teeth, more a snarl than a smile. _

_"Doesn't count. Not really. The funny thing about hell is that nothing is real but the pain, so nothing really counts. Your body has to die topside in order for you to be really, truly dead. As long as we were already in hell, they could do whatever they wanted to us. Reality doesn't work the same way there. Either we woke up the next day, still truly alive, or we didn't wake up at all. Our bodies and souls kept growing. This is my body, Dean. Sam? That's his real body. If you kill me, you're actually killing me. You wouldn't end me, you'd just finally complete what Azazel started all those years ago. I'm alive. Sam's alive. We're alive, and we're demons and we're human too. Azazel needed us alive to grow stronger. Killing us just ends the human part of the equation. Then we really, truly become full Arch Demons."_

_Dean shook his head mutely. "No." He finally muttered. _

_"No. No, not Sam. Not Sammy. You said the human had to make a deal. Sammy didn't make a deal, would never make a deal. He fought tooth and nail when they came for him, that library was a bloody disaster."_

_She gazed at him, her face indicating she had an answer to his question, though she held her tongue._

"_Sam would NEVER make a deal." He insisted._

"_You're right. He didn't. None of us did." She stated plainly._

"_The deals were struck before we were ever born. Azazel exposed us to demon blood when we were just infants, Dean. On the night of our six month birthday. In Sam's case, the night Azazel killed your mother. He exposed us to the demon blood, and for fifteen years, it lay dormant, festering quietly. Azazel never planned to bring us to hell so early, but Gordon Walker sped up his time line."_

"Then how..." Dean trailed off, scrubbed his hand over his face as he paced.

"Your mother." She said, the words dropping like stones in the stillness of the room. "It was your mother. And my mother, all our mothers, our fathers. Our parents made the deals."

"What did you say?" He screamed, knife in his hand as he lunged for Ava's restrained form.

He never got there, however, as a large hand grasped his wrist, turning him in one smooth movement and pushing him into the wall.

Dean stared into his brother's unreadable eyes, felt the tension strumming through Sam's body.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to." Sam said coldly, squeezing Dean's wrist until he was forced to drop the blade.

"She's lying." Dean hissed.

"No." Sam's words were absolute.

"She's not. Azazel hand picked our parents, each child's parents, searching for the qualities he wanted Then he cut them a deal. Gave them what they wanted most, and all they had to do was give him permission to enter their homes ten years later. He even let them live, when he returned, as long as they didn't try to interfere. Then he fed his blood to their infant children on the night of their six month birthdays. We've been damned since the day we were born." Sam let go of Dean and Dean pushed him off roughly.

Sam studied him. "All we are doing, Dean, is playing the game better than them."

"Not Mom." Dean argued, so angry he was shaking. "She loved you, man, she freaking ADORED you! What the hell could Azazel possibly offered her?" Dean demanded.

Sam paused from where he was freeing Ava. He turned back to face his shattered brother.

"Our father. Azazel murdered our father.. Mom made the deal to bring him back."


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: So, I meant to do another kick ass, fast paced, super long chapter, but...my Mom had to go back to ICU and have fluid removed from where it was gathering on her lung. No sign's of congestive heart failure, which is awesome, but it meant another day back in ICU, two more days on the cardiac ward, and one poor fan fiction writer her swears she is doing her absolute very best to keep updating!**

**So, let's see... here is the update to 'All The Pretty Monsters', I'm sorry, it should have come out yesterday, but again, I was at the hospital.**

**On Wednesday, I did get a short update out on 'Prisoner of War'. I had meant to update 'How To Fix A Winchester' this morning, I just didn't quite manage it. Perhaps tomorrow.**

**And I am really determined to get the next chapter of "Tuesday's Child" out on, you guessed it, Tuesday.**

**Just bear with me, guys, and I swear I will just...keep...writing...just …keep...writing.**

**Reviews are Love, and to be honest, I sort of need it this week.**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox. I think I lost my sandbox, or maybe that was my marbles...**

**Trigger Warnings: Bobby Singer, copious amounts of alcohol, and Gabe and Ava discussing dragons. **

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Twenty Five**

"**No Place Like Home"**

Dean stared at his brother, speechless, as his entire world shattered and remade itself in one single moment.

Azazel had killed killed his mother, stolen away his baby brother and turned him into a monster, and now Sam was telling him it all started when Azazel murdered their father.

"Dad died?" He choked out, grabbing Sam's arm.

Sam looked away from Ava, meeting his brother's eyes.

"Yes. Mom came from an old line of hunters. Dad never told you that, did he? He discovered it after she died." Sam said, pulling away again and snapping the chains restraining Ava with easy strength.

A disjointed part of Dean's mind wondered if Ava had been able to free herself all this time, she had simply been waiting for Sam.

Had she wanted to tell this story?

"Wait, Mom was a hunter?" Dean asked, leaning against the wall in information overload.

"Yes. The Campbell family was an old line of hunter's, even older than the Winchester line." Sam said, turning to face Dean again as Ava stretched out her limbs behind him, then walked past, easily letting herself out of the panic room.

"Sam, Dad turned to hunting after Mom died, you say 'Winchester line' like we've been involved for centuries, but Dad's a first generation hunter." Dean argued.

Sam sighed patiently, though his eyes were always moving, always evaluating his surroundings.

"The Winchester's were once part of a society called the Men of Letters. They tracked the supernatural, studying it, keeping records. They worked with a select group of hunters, giving them the more sensitive information when necessary. When Dad was just a child, his father, Henry, was caught in an ambush by a demon named Abbadon, and he was never seen again. His wife, Millie, our grandmother, knew nothing about it, and neither did dad. Both the Winchester and Campbell lines are powerful, that's why Azazel targeted our parents, and me."

Sam started to walk away then, and Dean wanted to stop him, but it was to much, it was all to much.

Sam left the panic room, and in a rage, Dean throw the chair Ava had been bound to across the room.

Had John know all this? Had he found it out and never told Dean? Why would he keep it a secret?

Turning furiously, he exited the panic room, coming to a halt just outside as he watched the tableau unfolding in front of him.

Ava was already gone, no where to be seen, and Dean was glad, because he didn't think he could stomach the sight of her again at the moment. Sam was standing motionless, casually, looking upward.

And at the top of the stairs, Bobby was standing, frozen and Dean wondered if the older man was gonna have a heart attack, he looked so stunned.

"Bobby." Sam greeted casually, as if they had just seen each other a few days ago, and not seven years (for Bobby, anyway. Apparently Sam had been in hell for eight centuries, and that was enough to give Dean the headache of all headaches, and damn it, he was STILL the older brother!)

"Sam!" Bobby said, voice choked with emotion.

Sam tilted his head to one side, a casual greeting and started up the staircase. Bobby backed up, eyes still locked on Sam, and Dean wondered if it were because he could sense the predator in Sam, or if he had simply missed the little boy who had learned Latin on his knee.

Sam brushed past Bobby, Dean trailing behind him, still feeling like he'd been driven into by a mack truck (again.)

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean and Bobby.

"Now you know everything. For once in your life, you actually know more than John." He said, watching Dean's face intently.

Dean swallowed. "I don't know anything, just a bunch of things from a girl who's obviously spent too many years being tortured."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Did you really think anything she could have said would make it better? Did you think we were having ice cream and slumber parties, Dean? We were in Hell. Now, we're not. And we're not going back."

"What are you going to do?" Dean asked through numb lips as Bobby came up behind him silently.

Sam smiled, eyes flickering black for a moment, but Dean refused to let himself flinch.

"It's a brave new world, brother." He said, disappearing with a silent gust of wind.

Dean's legs started to give out, and Bobby pushed him unceremoniously into a worn arm chair.

"Start talking." He ordered gruffly, shoving a glass a whiskey into Dean's hand. Dean drained it reflexively, and Bobby refilled it without having to be asked.

Dean looked up a Bobby in despair. "Everything I though I ever knew was a lie."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava kicked the gravel desultorily as she walked through the rows a broke down cars, enjoying the stretch and play of her muscles after her rather unorthodox trip to up to South Dakota.

"You knew, didn't you?" Gabe asked from where he was perched on the hood of a dented Camaro.

She raised a brow as a smile curved her lips. "I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about."

She said, not bothering to stop walking. She had to meet up with Sam and the others soon, but she had needed to walk off the memories her interrogation with Dean had stirred up.

"You knew Winchester was gonna grab one of you. That's why you were there. It was a set up." Gabe said, certainty lacing his words.

She shrugged. "Dean needed to get up to speed. He never would have believed us if we had just offered to tell him. Not the part about his parents, at least."

Gabe's smile fell away. "The most dangerous demons never lie." He murmured.

She looked over at him. "The most dangerous demons don't have to. Nothing hurts as much as the truth. Why do you think Azazel told us all this in the first place?"

Gabe tilted his head, curious. "Your people, back in the day. If all of you came from strong bloodlines, what did you family do? I can see the power in your blood, but not it's true nature. It's too-"

"Scarred? Dented? Damaged? Spoiled? Tainted, tarnish, blackened..." She offered, ticking options off on her fingers.

He looked at her. "Changed."

She smiled a little.

"My family hunted Dragons, back during the crusades." She offered finally with a self deprecating smile.

Gabe tossed his head back and laughed.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Bobby sat breath, blowing out a heavy breath. "Damn you, John Winchester." He muttered.

"Do you think it's true?" Dean asked desperately.

Bobby hesitated, then nodded. "Demons lie, but...John's said things, over the years. Things that didn't make a whole lot of sense then, but make sense now."

"Like what?" Dean asked, rubbing his aching temples.

Bobby thought for a moment. "He talked about finally being able to forgive his father, now that he knew Henry didn't just walk away. And he mentioned, once, that you had cousins out there, on your mother's side, but that they weren't the sort of people he wanted you involved with."

"Jesus Christ. What about all the hell stuff, the dying and the demon blood and the bloodlines?" Dean insisted.

Bobby shook his head. "I just don't know, Dean. I've seen references, in old books about 'high demons', or 'great demons'. What Ava described to you, about Arch Demons, could fit, I suppose. I know demon deals are real. Rare, or at least I thought so, anyway."

"I just can't believe Dad would lie to me about all this." Dean said, standing up and beginning to pace.

"He might have thought he was protecting you, Dean. Or, hell, maybe it is all lies." Bobby said, eyes tracking Dean as he walked back in forth.

"Yeah. I need to double check this info." Dean muttered, mostly to himself.

Bobby frowned. "How the hell are you going to do that? Call John up?"

Dean paused. "I'm going to have to do something I swore I never would." He said, discomfort clear in his voice.

"Dean?" Bobby questioned warily.

Dean looked over. "I'm going home, Bobby. I'm going back to Lawrence."

Bobby watched him silently for a moment. Then he said "If your going to do that, there's someone you need to go see. Her name's Missouri."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Jenny looked up from the boxes she was unpacking, as the scuttering noises she had heard earlier returned, louder than ever.

"Oh, God." she muttered, shutting her eyes. "Please don't be rats."


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Yay, next update, and this one is a little longer. My mom is still in the hospital, but she's doing pretty good, so things could be much worse. Thanks everyone for all the reviews, and well wishes, you guys are amazing! So, everyone loves Missouri, so I gave her a pretty big voice in this chapter, along with a little last minute awesome Sam. And Dean, still determined not to give up on his brother. Love my boys so so much. **

**All right, I'm home, all night, my son has been set up with a movie and popcorn and I have a super size soda, so I am locked, loaded and caffeinated. Think I might push for an early morning update to Tuesday's child tomorrow, so everyone hold their breath. The outline is finally feeling solid, I haven't got a chance to pull a six hour slam on it yet like I did with this story to get it on steady feet, but I think I can pull off chapter three without wrecking it, lol. So if you guys haven't read the first two chapters, swing over and get up to speed, because I have such a good feeling about that story. Earlier today, Prisoner of War updated also, so if you haven't read that yet, there's another option for your Saturday night.**

**Reviews Are LOVE!**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox**

**Trigger Warning: Enough curse words that Missouri chased me around with a wooden spoon for bad language. I blame Dean.**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Twenty-Six**

"**Never Underestimate A Survivor"**

Dean climbed inside the Impala, slamming the door behind him in exasperation.

Another dead end.

Opening his phone, he speed dialed John, the way he had every hour or so since Sam and Ava's little revelation. When John, (to Dean's complete unsurprise) failed to answer, Dean pushed the disconnect button viciously, and then dialed Bobby.

Bobby answered on the first ring, and Dean wondered if the older hunter was as unsettled by the recent events as Dean was.

"Dean, what have you found?" Bobby asked impatiently.

"Nothing but a lot of headstones." Dean replied sourly.

"Come again?" Bobby said in confusion.

"Everyone's dead." Dean elaborated. "At least, every one who ever knew Mom. Her friends, her book club, hell, even the doctor who delivered Sam. She was a Lawrence native, it was Dad who moved here after the war, and I can't even find anyone who even knew her family."

"You think that's a coincidence?" Bobby asked.

"I doubt that, since one of her friends was a cardiologist who died of a heart attack. Hard to believe he missed the symptoms." Dean snarked.

"Shit." Bobby cursed. "Well, that all lends credence to the idea of hunters and demon interference. Hunters are a close mouthed bunch, your Mom's family probably wouldn't have had many close friends. And if the demons were trying to cover their tracks, they might have gone through and killed off any loose ends. What did Missouri have to say?"

Dean hesitated. "Well, I haven't exactly been to see her yet." He said slowly.

"Well, why the hell not, ya idjit?" Bobby asked in exasperation.

Dean sighed. "You said she's a freaking psychic, Bobby. Worst case scenario, she's a fake and a fraud, almost all of them are. Even if she's legit, that means she's flaky as hell, and I'm tired of this hoodoo-voodoo talking in riddles crap. I need real information, Bobby. Facts."

Bobby made a choked sound of exasperation. "You idjit. You'd better get your ass over to Missouri's and pray she doesn't know you just called her a flake or she'll whack the shit outta you with a wooden spoon. Balls! Dean, stop playing, you're not down there for fun. Get to work." With that the line went dead and Dean found himself staring at it in consternation.

"Whack me with a wooden spoon?" He muttered, shaking his head as he started the car and headed over to the address Bobby had given him.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ruby sat at the table, casually painting her names a deep, bloody red.

"What the hell are you doing here!" Gordon barked as he let himself into the apartment he was using as a base this week.

She looked up at him. "Waiting for you to remove your head from your ass." She replied archly, blowing on her nails to dry them.

He scowled. "I already told you, you stupid bitch, I ain't helping you with nothing. You want Sam Winchester dead and I'm all on board with that, just give me a location and I'll have his head on a stick for you by morning."

She rolled her eyes. "How many times do I have to say it? Sam Winchester could turn you inside out with one hand tied behind his back. He's a demon, a powerful one, trained by one scary ass motherfucker to be even scarier. You have to train with me if you want to have an ice cube's chance in hell of taking him down. And if you don't, the world freaking ends, so get with the damn program already."

He stomped over to her. "If I'm so 'righteous', then why the hell do I have to train?"

She stood, looking up at him fearlessly. "Because your enemy spent the better part of a century training to rip organs out with flair and style."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Max looked up as Lily entered the room. He held up the two journals for her perusal. From the hall, they could hear the sound of a scuffle, and Max assumed Jake was playing with his food.

She took one of the books from Max, flipping it open and wrinkling her nose at the dust that flew up from the pages.

She paged through it for a moment, before looking up at Max excitedly.

"The demon at the last nest was right. These journals belonged to Samuel Colt." She said.

She watched him for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, you're right. We should send them to Andy. He and Sam will have the time to go through them, while we go back to the vampires. I caught word of a nest down in the black hills. Random people been going missing for decades now."

Max nodded, and she tucked the journals into the leather bag she had slung over her shoulder.

"I'm hungry." She announced as they went out the door and Max smiled.

Looks like they were hitting one more nest for the road.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Missouri wrenched open her front door in a huff before Dean even had a chance to ring the bell. Without preamble, she reached out, smacking the backside of Dean's head.

"That's for calling me a flake." She scolded, turning around and heading back inside without another word.

"What the h-" Dean started to say, but she cut him off.

"Watch you language in my house, Dean Winchester, your Daddy did a lot of wrong by you, but I know he taught you that." She called out from the kitchen as Dean stepped into her living room.

"Crazy." Dean muttered as she came back in with two glasses of iced tea and shoved one into Dean's hands. "Wait, so you know my father?" He asked.

"'Course I do, boy. I know you too, and your brother. Met you when you were real little, but you probably don't remember." She said, shaking her head. "Horrible thing, what happened to your mother, but she opened the door when she made a deal with that demon. Didn't feel she had a choice, with her parents dead and your daddy murdered, but it set a terrible chain of events in motion." She sighed, sitting down.

Dean leaned forward, tea ignored on the table as he focused on Missouri. "Wait, start at the beginning, I need to know everything."

She took a sip. "Well, you grew up better looking than I thought you would, anyway. You were a funny looking kid. Dean, your brother told you what happened."

Dean swallowed. "I...don't know if I can trust his information." He hedged.

She arched a brow. "Because Sam's a demon? Son, you better learn, the most dangerous monsters don't have to lie, the truths too much for most people as it is. Look, your Daddy came to me after your mother died. He'd seen something, something unnatural. He had trouble believing his own eyes, but he was born with a hunter's instincts, so he came to me. You might say I put him through supernatural boot camp, so to speak. I drew aside the curtain."

Dean rubbed his face. "So, Sam wasn't lying when he said we were legacy hunters, that Mom had been one too? And Dad's Dad had been some kind of, what, supernatural librarian?"

She shook her head. "I've heard whispers of the Men of Letters, but as far as I know, they all died out years ago. The psychic who trained me said she had worked with them once or twice in her youth, before she lost contact with them. They always contacted her, not the other way around. Now, as far as your mother goes, that I do know. Your mother was a Campbell, and they're an old, old line. There's branches all over now, but they're pretty scattered. Your grandaddy, that's on your mama's side, that is, was named Samuel too, just like your brother, and he acted as an unofficial head of the family, keeping track of the branches. When he was killed, your mother turned her back on hunting, and most of the branches lost track of each other. But first, your mama made a deal. It seemed innocent, at the time, but it was the key that monster needed to get to your little brother."

Dean nodded, swallowing hard. "What do you know about Sam?"

She sighed, looking away. "I know he's a demon, of sorts, I suppose. The spirits don't really seem to know what to make of him. But everyone's looking for him, and in the meantime, he's searching for something big. He's got a plan, but I don't know what it is, Dean."

Dean scowled. "Well then, get out your Oujia Board and get ghost whispering already."

She raised a hand at him threateningly. "Don't you use that tone with me, boy. It ain't as easy as all that. Like I warned your Daddy years ago, that demon's had an eye on your brother his whole life, and then he dragged him to hell. Boy knows how to cover his tracks. Half the spirits are afraid of him, and the other half are rooting for him."

Dean felt like he had been punched in the stomach. "Dad knew a demon was after Sam?" He asked in a choked voice.

She sighed. "Your Daddy took me to your old house, to Sam's nursery. I could feel the events, an echo, you might say, or what had happened, but it was so violent, so dark. But it only took one look at your brother to know the demon had marked him. I warned your Daddy, which is why he took you with him, I suppose. But then, when they took Sam to hell..." She trailed off, shaking her head with a scowl.

Dean's entire world narrowed down to the woman in front of him at that moment. "Dad...Dad knew Sam was in Hell, didn't he? That's why he wanted me to stop looking."

She pressed her lips together, finally nodding. "It took me a while to piece it together, but finally I tracked down a spirit of a person killed at the library that night. The hounds took your brother, as if he'd made the deal and not your mama. They said he fought, Dean, like a tiger, but there was just too many. He tried to save the others in the library that night, but there were just too many and monsters like that don't know mercy. It was probably three or four years ago when I knew for sure. I told your Daddy, but by then he felt Sam was a lost cause, he'd been killed and in hell for so long."

Dean looked at her bleakly. "He wasn't dead."

Her mouth opened. "Excuse me?"

Dean swallowed. "That's why he and the other kids are special. The demons didn't kill them Just about every else but, but they never killed them. Sam was still alive, and he was trapped in hell."

She shook her head as a tear trailed down her cheek. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, I had no idea. When I told your daddy, I thought he might try a summoning spell, so we could try and send Sam's soul to heaven."

Dean nodded grimly. "He must have already suspected by that point." He stood up, and took off his necklace, holding it out to her. "Sam had this last. I'm not sure why he took it, but I got it back. Can you use this to help the spirits find Sam? I feel like I'm chasing my tail here."

She looked at him doubtfully. "Dean, are you really sure you want to get involved in all this? You might be a hunter, but this is beyond anything you've ever dealt with. We're talking about the forces of hell, boy."

Dean looked at her squarely. "I hunted werewolves and black dogs while my kid brother was being tortured in Hell. He's been on his own long enough. Help me find Sam."

She nodded. "All right, but there's something I want in return. I need your help. I've kept an eye on your old house all these years, just in case. A powerful evil took place there."

Dean looked at her thoughtfully as he put his amulet back on. "You were watching for poltergeists?" He guessed.

She nodded. "Yes, and until a few weeks ago, it's been quiet. But something's stirred the house up now, whether it's your brother and that demon returning, I don't know. But a new family moved in a week ago. A sweet woman named Jenny and her two little kids. And whatever happened before, there's something dark there now. That family's in danger."

Missouri closed the door thoughtfully behind Dean as he left. She had debated telling him all that she did, but the poor boy had been lied to and deceived more than enough in his short life. She hadn't had the heart to hold anything back.

Had she not been so distracted, she would have noticed the dark presence sooner. But Dean's pain and confusion had been loud and rather distracting, so it was almost too late when she sensed the intruder.

Eyes widening in fear, she lunged for her altar and the Holy Water she kept there, even as an iron grip closed on her arm.

The man was large, beefy and burly, but Missouri was no light weight herself, and she put up a fight. The coffee table was knocked over in the scuffle, as was a lamp near the door. The demon finally managed to get a hand wrapped around her throat, however.

"Don't worry, sweetheart." The demon breathed into her ear, chuckling. "The boss didn't send me here to kill you. He has good use for someone with your...talents."

Eyes widening in fear, she renewed her struggles, knowing she was better off dead than going with this monster.

Suddenly, the man's head was jerked to the side as strong hands snapped his neck neatly. The body sagged immediately, and Missouri choked in a gasp of air as she slid down the wall, watching with wide eyes as the tall man stood over the body of her attacker. Smoke was already starting to boil out of the body's mouth, but the tall man started chanting, rapid fire Latin too fast for Missouri to follow, but the cadence and rhythm told her that it was old, old magic.

In front of her disbelieving eyes, the demon's soul darkened, turning the rusty color of dried blood before disappearing in a crackle of dark energy.

She jerked back in fear when a hand suddenly appeared in front of her, but she reminded herself that her grandmother had raised her to be made of sterner stuff than that.

Taking Sam's hand, she allowed him to lift her to her feet.

"Well, you came out almost too good looking, all things considered, just like your brother." She said, brushing herself off with shaking hands.

He grinned a quicksilver, one sided grin at her. "Thank you, I think. I'd say it's safe to assume Azazel knows who and what you are now."

She arched an unamused brow at him. "You think, honey? You Winchesters have been nothing but trouble since the day John appeared on my door step with you wrapped in a blanket and Dean still with soot on his nose."

Sam tilted his head in silent acknowledgment and she took a moment to study him. Lord, but his brother was right.

Sam Winchester was most certainly a demon, and yet...he wasn't. Sam had a soul.

Demon's didn't have souls, they were souls who borrowed bodies. Sam was obviously something else.

"This place is no longer safe for you." Sam said calmly, as he walked over and ripped down one side of her curtains.

"Boy, what the heck are you doin'?" She scolded before remembering just who she was talking to.

He looked over at her, amused, as if he were the psychic one and he had read her mind. "Setting the scene. It would be preferable if no one knew I assisted you. You'll be less of a target that way."

She put her hands on her hips. "And just where is it I'm going?" She asked, piqued.

He glanced over at her as he knocked her bookshelf over, and she winced at the mess. "Anywhere you want. Anselm has cash. Just give him a destination and he'll get you there safely." He nodded at the other demon (who also, apparently, was a demon and yet wasn't, and the discrepancy was making her head hurt a little) who had just appeared in her doorway.

"I'm just supposed to take off, uproot my whole life and run away?" She asked.

"Wouldn't be the first time, would it, Missouri?" Sam asked knowingly, and she snapped her mouth shut quickly, wondering how on earth the boy could have ever known just how many times her powers had driven her away from a place she'd come to call home.

He met her eyes for a moment. "Survivors have a look to them." He offered finally, and she nodded, because Lord knows, wasn't that the truth.

The most dangerous monsters always spoke the truth, hadn't she warned Dean?

"Your brother's looking for you. And your Daddy, though I wouldn't blame you if you skipped that reunion."

He grinned to himself as he methodically destroyed her living room. "Pack a couple of bags, whatever you can carry. Any pictures you take behind, I'll destroy, so take them if you want them. Once Azazel is dead, if you want to come back, that's your choice."

She shook her head. "One thing I've learned, never look back. You're not going that way."

He nodded in appreciation. "And that is why you should never underestimate a survivor. They know how dangerous they are."

She started to the stairs to pack. "Are you going to help your brother?" She asked.

He looked up at her. "Dean's fully capable of handling a poltergeist." He said dismissively.

She raised a brow of her own. "If your half the psychic I think you are, then you know that's not the only thing in that house."

Sam paused, and Missouri swore the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

"That is probably a reunion I should skip also." He said finally in a cool voice.

She looked at him sadly. "Pity, because I'm fairly sure your the one she's waiting to see."

"Go, Missouri." He said without looking at her.

She swallowed, suddenly nervous but determined to ask. "Why are you helping me?" She challenged.

He glanced up, meeting her eyes with a solid stare, no trace of emotions of any sort. "You attempted to help, in your own way. And you were drawn into this because of John."

"You're a funny sort of demon, Sam Winchester." She said finally.

He nodded. "Never underestimate a survivor. We know exactly how dangerous we are." He repeated.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: WHOOO! Big doings here. Okay, so I always kind of thought Mary and John's deaths screwed both boys over. Dean got this big long speech from John, and he basically asked Sam to go get coffee while he asked Dean to kill him. And in the episode Home, Mary barely even looks at Dean, instead giving this enigmatic apology to Sam when all he really wants to hear her say is that she loves him.**

**So, I hope mine's a little better. Please don't take offense at Sam's reply, he is honestly replying as kindly as he can to her. He can't give her want she wants, so he offers her the best thing he has to give her, which is pretty damn kind, coming from a demon.**

**Reviews are Love, and next chapter, I think we will see some fun Gabe/Ava, what do you say?**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Twenty Seven**

"**No Forgiveness To Give"**

Sam sat in the dim light of the car's interior, watching as the blonde woman and her two children looked over her shoulder with trepidation at Dean as he stood on her porch, the porch light casting a dancing play or shadows across his features as he spoke with her.

Sam had hoped to avoid this moment, had actually considered sending one of his siblings to assist Dean.

The dreams about Jenny and her children had started a few weeks back, and Sam and his siblings had been keeping an eye on Lawrence for over a week now. He knew that the poltergeist's attacks had escalated.

He also knew there was more than one spirit lingering in the home.

He hadn't needed Missouri to tell him who it was, either.

The second spirit was laying low, overwhelmed by the power of the poltergeist, who was feeding off the lingering energy of the dark events that had taken place over twenty-two years before.

He counted in his head, opening the door when he reached one thousand. He could sense the poltergeist's anger even from here, the manic energy it was throwing around. Dean's banishing spell had angered it, and if it hadn't worked by now, then his brother most likely needed help.

With calm but quick strides, he let himself in, heading towards the the second floor, where he sensed the greatest disturbance.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean sincerely hoped this little ritual of Missouri's worked. Missouri had warned him that this poltergeist was strong, stronger than most, having grown fat off the dark energy trapped in his own home.

No standard exorcism would work, and instead she had supplied him with hex bags, filled with blessed salt and iron and herbs, and directions to place them inside the walls of every corner of the house, on all three levels.

What she hadn't given him instructions on was how to dodge the pissed off poltergeist as he did so.

Now, as he rolled on the floor of Jenny's bedroom with a lamp cord wrapped around his neck, black spots began to dance in front of his eyes. The was the last hex bag, as he had started in the basement, and had the bruises, cuts and bad mood to show for it.

His hand reached out desperately for the hammer, but it was too far away, and Dean was running out of oxygen, fast.

Just then, a searing pain flared along the skin of Dean's neck, where the cord was wrapped, and Dean gasped.

Then Dean realized he could gasp.

The cord was gone, having fell in pieces on the floor beside him, and he stared up, in shock as Sam loomed over him.

Sam was a fury of motion, grabbing up the last hex bag.

"Any others?" He tossed at Dean, and Dean shook his head, to breathing hard.

"Brace yourself!" Sam warned, and Dean went down to his knees instinctively placing his hands flat on the ground.

A moment later, he was glad he had, as Sam kicked a hole in the plaster in the corner of Jenny's bedroom. Tossing in the Hex bag, he started mumbling a string of Latin that didn't sound exactly like what Missouri had coached Dean on, but Dean wasn't going to nit pick at that moment.

A blast of energy shot out, blowing back the hair on the brother's heads, making Dean's ears ring.

"It it over?" Dean asked, climbing to his feet.

Sam glanced over at him, a peculiar look on his face. "Yes." He said finally.

Dean didn't believe a word of it.

"Dean?" They heard a voice call from downstairs.

Dean looked over curiously at Sam, who simply smirked and raised a brow.

Jenny appeared in the doorway just then, eyes wide, mouth nearly hanging open.

"What the hell happened?" She cried, looking from one brother to the next. "And who are you?" She said to Sam.

"He's my brother." Dean answered shortly, old protective instincts rising as easily as they ever had.

Sam glanced over at him again, that peculiar look still in his eyes.

"I have to go." He said simply, walking past the stunned woman.

Dean trailed after him hurriedly as Sam seemed to fly down the stairs without seeming to actually hurry at all.

"Sam, wait. I went to see-"

"Missouri, yes, I know. Fact checking and all. Very good, Dean. John would be proud." Sam said coldly, as he stepped out onto the porch.

"She said..." Dean swallowed, then forced himself to continue. "She said Dad knew you were in Hell."

Sam stilled, one hand on the rail, back towards his brother. "I know." He said again, and his voice wasn't sad, wasn't cold, wasn't angry.

It was empty.

Sam glanced over at Dean, then. "He made a choice. We all do, in the end."

Dean couldn't tell from Sam's voice and words if he forgave John Winchester, or hated him and wanted him dead, and a part of him honestly wouldn't have blamed him for either.

"I didn't know, Sam. I didn't know, and I never stopped looking." Dean said fiercely, needing to know that Sam understood that, in whatever way he could, changed person that he now was. "I would have come for you."

"You would have tried." Sam agreed softly. "We all live with our choices. We die by them, too."

In a blink he was gone, and Dean was standing, alone in the darkness, the light from the open door behind him the only illumination.

"I would have got you out, somehow." Dean whispered fiercely, breathing hard as he headed for his Impala.

He needed to go see Missouri, _now_.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam watched from the darkness as Dean drove off, his brother's whispered words echoing in his mind.

"_I would have got you out..._"

But the truth was, Dean literally wouldn't have had a chance in hell of getting Sam or the others out, and neither would John.

The difference is, Dean would most likely have died trying to save Sam, while John would most likely die trying to avenge what he no doubt saw as the murder of his wife, and his son, despite the fact that Sam was still alive.

Everyone made choices, and they lived and died by them.

Some people made deals, though, too.

He watched, over the next hour, as Jenny attempted to set her house to rights, watched through the windows as she tucked her children in, got ready for bed herself.

She trusted Dean, trusted that he had done as he'd said, that he'd rid her home of the monster.

Dean had believed it, too. Even Missouri had thought the ritual would be enough to vanquish the poltergeist, but again, Sam knew the truth.

He'd lied, straight faced to Dean, because he hoped to finish things before Dean realized there was a problem and returned.

The ritual hadn't banished the poltergeist, it had been too strong, but it had weakened it some, destroying some of the metaphysical tethers it had used to bind itself to the home.

And now Sam didn't need a ritual to kill it.

Slipping his flask out of his pocket, he drank the last of the Demon's blood inside. Unfortunately, even demon blood didn't keep forever, and he wished there was a way to keep more on hand, other than a demon tied up in the trunk, as even Sam needed to refuel often, with the way he had been expending power recently.

It would have to be enough.

He glanced upwards from the shadows of the trees when Jenny started banging frantically from her bedroom window, and from the next room other, flickering shadows could be seen, as if cast from a flickering flame.

It was time to end this, then.

The house let him in far too easily, and he guessed that the poltergeist had sensed him earlier, locking on the the traces of Demon power and emotional pain that tied Sam to the house just as strongly in some ways as it tied the poltergeist to it. He ran upstairs, to the little boys room, grabbing him up as the child wailed in fear.

He went to Jenny's room next. "Stand back!" He ordered, drawing back his hand, then pushing forward with both his hand and his mind, directing a burst of power that practically had the door disintegrating.

Jenny rushed out, and Sam pushed her son into her arms. "Take him, and run outside!" He ordered.

"Don't look back!"

"My daughter!" She cried frantically.

"I'm going to get her." He replied authoritatively.

She hesitated for the barest second before nodding, eyes wide with fear, and Sam wondered what she saw on his face that made her obey.

She rushed down the stairs, and Sam started for Sari's room.

His old room.

Sari was sitting up in bed, screaming as the flaming shape of a person made it's way out of her closet.

Sam hesitated momentarily, overwhelmed with the various emotions the spirit was giving off, but it he was going to sever the poltergeist's ties to the house and banish it once and for all, he needed to do it quickly.

The second spirit would have to wait.

Edging around the flaming figure, he grabbed up the frightened girl.

"Who are you?" She cried, clutching his shoulders in fear.

He looked down into her frightened eyes, remembering, for just a split second, all those years ago when a frightened Ava had asked him the very same question.

All these years later, he still had only one answer to give.

"I'm Sam."

He raced out of the room with her, feeling the flaming spirit try to follow slowly as the poltergeist began to rage, slamming doors and tossing photos off the wall.

Coming down to the bottom of the staircase, he once again shoved opened the door, bracing his feet as the poltergeist tried to fight him, trapping him and Sari inside.

Putting more power than he cared to into the battle, he set Sari down.

"Run, Sari. Run to your mother. I'll keep it's attention on me." He ordered, and really, that wasn't anything new either.

Sam had drawn the monster's attention to himself more than once in his life.

The little girl ran, as fast as her legs could, and Sam braced himself against the furious onslaught of energy the poltergeist poured into it's attempt to trap the little girl in with them.

She made it out, barely, just as Sam heard the familiar sound of the Impala's engine pulling up outside.

So much for avoiding this whole family reunion.

Dean's returned distracted him, as just as he felt a trickle of warm blood start to drip from his nose, the poltergeist turned the entirety of it's fury against him, flinging Sam against the far wall of the living room.

"Sam!" He heard Dean shout from the other side of the door, as Dean rattled the lock uselessly.

Various objects started flying around the living room as Sam and the poltergeist began fighting on a psychic level.

Sam ducked a flying steak knife, just as the flaming figure made it's way down the staircase.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean stared, aghast at the ruined wreck that had been Missouri Mosely's home only a few hours before. Furniture was overturned and broke, curtains torn down, books and nick knacks strewn about.

Missouri was nowhere to be seen, and Dean could only assume the worst.

Had one of Azazel's men done this, or worse, had Sam?

Sam had known Dean had gone to see Missouri, but still, Dean's heart rebelled at the thought of Sam harming the psychic.

Suddenly, Dean's attention was caught by a framed photo of the wall. It was of a little girl and another, even younger girl, and Dean guessed it was Missouri and her sister.

What was odd was that every other picture in the place was destroyed, torn down, glass shattered, faces obscured.

Why, then, did this one remain.

Walking over quickly, he to it off the wall, flipping it over and removing the backing.

Tucked inside was a sheet of folded paper, and Dean caught it as it fluttered out. Putting down the photo, he quickly unfolded the note.

"_Dean,_

_I know what you're thinking, and don't worry, it wasn't Sam. On the contrary, Sam is helping me. It's no longer safe for me here. I know you wanted my help finding Sam, so here's a little piece of advice._

_Go Home."_

"Go home?" Dean whispered in confusion.

He didn't have a home, not since his mother had died. Did she mean their old house, Jenny's house, now? He'd just left there, surely she would have known he'd have taken care of Jenny's problem before returning here.

Did she want him to go back?

Cold fingers of dread gripped his stomach as he raced back out the shattered front door.

Things obviously weren't as finished as he'd thought they were.

Remembering the strange look on Sam's face when he'd said things were over, Dean decided that Sam must have been lying to him.

But why?

Had Sam been protecting him?

He screeching to a halt in front of the house as Jenny came out, followed a few seconds later by her daughter.

He ran up to them.

"Where's my brother! Where's Sam?" He cried, and Jenny shook her head.

Sari piped up, thin voice wavering. "He said he'd keep it's attention so I could get away."

Dean closed his eyes as fear and nausea overwhelmed him for a moment, the echo of Ava's words in his head stunningly loud.

"_Sam never faltered. Sam never said no._"

He sprinted to the door, hearing chaotic sounds from inside. He banged on it uselessly, but the poltergeist was obviously stronger than anyone had thought, and it didn't want Dean.

It wanted Sam.

He raced back to the Impala, wrenching the trunk open and yanking out the fireman's ax John had always kept inside. Dean had never used it.

Until tonight.

Dean went at the front door with a vengeance, putting all his strength behind the heavy blows, quickly reducing the door to so much kindling. Kicking the last pieces out of his way, he clambered it.

The sight inside nearly stole his breath away.

Sam, back to the far wall, was holding up a hand as objects flew around him, dangerously close but never quite making contact, and a flaming figure was entering the room, heading towards him.

"Get away from him!" Dean cried, raising the ax. He had no idea what the hell a damn ax would do to a poltergeist, but he was sure as hell ready in that moment to find out.

"Dean, WAIT!" Sam never raised him voice, but the absolute surety, the command it contained was enough to make Dean hesitate in his attack.

"SAM?" He questioned loudly, and Sam turned to face him, as the objects circling him fell to the ground in a loud clatter.

"Just...look. Look at her." Sam said raggedly, a trickle of blood running down from his nose, and Dean frowned.

Her?

He focused on the flaming figure, trying to look through the flames, instead of just at them, and then he felt his heart shatter all over again, if that were even possible, because Sam was right.

He recognized her.

The flames died down, leaving the lovely blonde woman standing in the center of the room's chaos.

"Mom?" Dean choked out, looking at the visage of none other than Mary Winchester.

"Hello Dean." She smiled softly, a tear trickling down her face.

Dean hadn't heard his mother say his name in twenty two years, and now answering tears trailed down his face as he shook his head mutely.

He had a lifetime's worth of things to say, and yet not a single word seemed right.

"It's okay, sweetheart." She said, and Dean gasped, closing his eyes, because nothing, nothing was okay, had been okay since the night she died.

"It is." She comforted quietly. "It is going to be okay. You've done good, Dean. And you will do more good, and that is all I ever wanted from you."

Dean opened his eyes bleakly, watching as she turned to his brother.

Sam was watching her impassively, and Dean couldn't help but remember the child he'd once been, who'd begged for stories and memories of Mary Winchester.

Now she was standing in front of him and he wondered if Sam was even able to feel anything for her.

Had Hell left him with that longing he'd once had for her, to know her, or had that burned away too?

"Sammy." She said softly, and he tiled his head in acknowledgment, but remained silent.

"I'm so sorry." She said, the quiet words echoing in the silent room.

"I know." Sam said finally, and her face crinkled in sorrow.

"Can you forgive me?" She asked.

He looked at her solemnly. "I'm not a creature that's capable of forgiveness. But I can end it all. I intend to end it all. The ones who did this to us will be stopped."

She nodded. "You've done good too, Sam. I know you can't see it, but I can. I can see the promises written on your skin. End it. Let this all end with us."

Sam nodded, and Dean looked back and forth between them trying to follow the conversation.

Promises? End it all.

She glanced over at Dean and smiled her sunshine smile, the smile Sam had inherited from her, before Hell had stolen it away.

"Want to see a neat trick?" She asked Dean, like she had the time she'd taught him to tie his shoes.

He nodded mutely, understanding that this was good bye, the only one they'd ever have.

She looked upward, speaking now to the poltergeist."You've caused enough harm. Get the hell away from my kids, and get out of my HOUSE!" She roared the last word, and it echoed, resonating with power the way the final words of a well spoken exorcism would.

In a flash of light, she was gone, and a fading roar of fury told the brothers that this time, the poltergeist was also.

In the silence that remained, the brothers looked at each other.

"Sam..." Dean said, but in a flash of his own, Sam was gone, and Dean was left alone, staring at the wreckage of the house.

But this time, the entire family was safe outside, so maybe, just maybe, this time the Winchesters had come out on top.

His phone rang then, and Dean looked down, frowning as he recognized a number he never thought he'd see again.

Opening his phone hesitantly, he said "Cassie?"


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Okay, so this chapter is a little introspective, but I felt like perhaps we needed a little story recap, before we segue into the next series of adventures. So, Dean is feeling pretty hopeful, but don't worry, Sam and the others haven't turned some magic corner of sweetness and light. **

**Dean's been seeing a lot of the best side of Sam, but when push comes to shove, though Sam loves Dean (as much as this Sam can love anything), he's one of Hell's most dangerous for a reason. Don't worry, we haven't seen the last of sly, cunning, masterful Sam. I thought perhaps since the prologue is no longer giving you guys behind the scenes info, every couple of chapters I may need to write a more introspective chapter like this, so that everyone can touch base with some of the plot lines that are all running at once in this story.**

**Reviews are love, this story seems to have plateaued as far as alerts and such go, which makes me sad, as it's actually my favorite of my four projects, but by the numbers, it reads as the least popular. **

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Still. Not. Mine.**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Twenty Eight**

"**The Memory Of Murder"**

Dean studied the landscape introspectively as he drove, desperately trying to process everything that had happened in the last two weeks. The interrogation with Ava, followed by the conversation with Missouri was almost too much to wrap his brain around.

He was a legacy hunter, as was his brother.

His father had come from some sort of secret society that had cataloged the things that went bump in the night, and his grandfather had apparently died for the cause. His father had come into hunting without ever knowing his own heritage, in what had to be one of the worlds weirdest coincidences.

His mother, on the other hand, had known exactly who and what she was, and had turned her back on the life, choosing to live as a civilian, until her past had somehow managed to catch up with her.

Both his parents had come from supposedly 'powerful' bloodlines, though Dean was still hazy on what that all meant.

Mary Winchester had made some sort of crossroads deal to save John's life, and the end result of that was the attack that ended her life while marking his little brother as some sort of demon super-soldier in the making.

It was like he'd said to Bobby, everything in his whole entire existence was a lie, a caricature of the truth drawn on top of decades of secrets that had all culminated in the perfect storm that was now his life.

And that didn't even touch on the subject of Sam.

Sam, his gentle little brother who'd dreamed of going to college and becoming a lawyer, who'd once adopted a stray dog named Bones until John had made him give him up, who'd cried the Christmas he had discovered that the monsters under his bed and in his closet were real.

His gentle little brother, who had somehow been caught up in all their parents' secrets and lies and horrible decisions, and had been sent to hell for it.

Sammy, his fierce, stubborn, _KIND_ little brother, who had been tortured for what turned out to be decades without breaking, who'd made horrible, heart breaking choices in order to save the other children like him.

Sam, who'd had his kindness and empathy and forgiveness burn away in Hell.

Or at least that was what he wanted the world to think.

Dean was no longer so sure.

At first, Dean's determination had been based on hope and memories and the driving need to know for certain whether or not Sam really was the monster John claimed he was.

That Sam himself now claimed to be.

If what Ava said was true, than Sam had tortured, had almost certainly killed, and would most likely do so again, who had drunk demon's blood in order to survive almost a century in Hell.

Who lived and breathed and plotted and planned for revenge against the ones who had hurt him.

And yet...

And yet...

Sam had done those things in hell, not to save himself, but to save as many of the other innocent children trapped in Hell as he could.

Dean had gotten the sense that the other kids practically worshiped Sam, that they counted on him and trusted him to keep them safe.

Could Dean really say he would have done any different if it had been Sam's life on the line, or John's?

Now Lily and Max's actions back at the lake made more sense. Lily had helped him save Lucas, because she had viewed Lucas as an innocent child caught up in a loved one's mistake, just as they had been.

To her, the Sheriff's death would have seemed like justice.

And there was the way Sam had saved Jenny and her children, particularly the way he had gone after Sari.

Missouri's note had also said that Sam was helping her.

He'd had no reason to help them, or Dean, and now Dean was forced to acknowledge just how many times Sam and his adopted siblings had helped him.

So why?

If their souls were as twisted and blackened as they wanted the world to believe, as they themselves really seemed to believe, why would they help anyone?

Perhaps Hell hadn't burned away their hope and kindness and pity as much as it had burned away their belief that they could be any of those things and survive.

Could demons feel any sort of empathy or injustice?

Were they different because they were still living, still growing?

If that were the case, and Hell and the demons had bent them into the twisted shapes they now bore, could exposure to the opposite help them grow back into something closer to what they would have been?

Could they be, if not cured, healed at least partly?

Was there a way to foster their humanity, _Sam's_ humanity?

Dean couldn't help but view Sam's current actions, saving Dean, Jenny, Sari and Missouri as proof that somewhere inside, some part of the old Sam was left.

Perhaps it was small and buried deeply, but Dean was sure it was there, somewhere.

The trick would be to manage to stay near Sam and the others long enough to build that spark into a flame, before Sam's demonic nature took over fully, or worse, Sam was physically killed here and sent back to hell, where he'd become a fully fledged demon.

And floating lightly on top of all these thoughts and theories and worries about Sam and Mary and John and demon armies was a wry, almost flabbergasted amusement at the idea that he was actually on his way down to Mississippi, because Cassie, of all people, had called him for help.

In the end, maybe everyone became a believer.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"What do you mean, the psychic is gone?" The volume of Azazel's voice had never risen, and that made the situation even more dangerous, and every cowering demon in the room knew it.

Azazel turned to Rainier, where he'd been standing wordlessly in the background, frimly entrenched in his new host. The body suited him, with darker hair and darker eyes and a smile that had been cold and cruel even before Rainier had hitched a ride.

Rumor was, Rainier's vessel had invited him in.

"Well, son, it looks like this is your chance to redeem yourself." Azazel drawled.

Rainier nodded but knew better than to reply when his father was in this sort of mood.

"Sam's little playmates have been causing havoc out west. It's time to remind them that we've been playing this game far better for far longer." Azazel said, a cruel smiled overtaking his own face.

"Do you want them dead, or simply returned to you?" Rainier finally asked when it became clear Azazel wasn't going to elaborate, unwilling to risk taking the wrong course of action with his most recent tour of hell still so fresh in his mind.

"I want Sam, the others are just cannon fodder, now that they've shown their true colors. And after all the kindness and hospitality we've shown them. But don't waste them foolishly. Any one of them would make excellent bait for the little boy king."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Andy opened the package Lily and the others had sent him, grinning in satisfaction when he ascertained that Max had been correct in his identification of the two books inside.

These were indeed the journals of Samuel Colt.

They had spent decades trying to discover the process by which Samuel Colt had managed to create the gun that could 'end anything', though of course they knew better than to think it really could kill everything.

Legend had it there were only four or five things, or perhaps entities was the better word, that the Colt was powerless against.

The most important, unfortunately for them, was Lucifer himself.

Whether or not that meant all angels were immune, or perhaps simply arch angels, they didn't know.

The Older Ones, likewise, were most likely to be immune, among them, Eve, the mother of monsters, and her brethren, the Leviathan, who were said to be so powerful they could even kill angels.

Eve, they knew for a fact, existed, as Sam had actually met her.

Andy therefore had no reason to doubt the existence of the Leviathan either.

Instead, he chose to be glad that they were trapped in purgatory. The spell binding purgatory was complex magic, a neat little trick set up by the top gardener himself, and just like Lucifer's cage, it was a trap well laid. The power hungry Leviathan were trapped in purgatory by a spell that used their own power against them. Their own power was what actually sustained the alternate dimension. So long as any other soul was trapped in purgatory, the Leviathan could not escape, bound to their prison.

That was one of purgatory's oldest secrets, one that Eve had whispered to Sam before their escape.

Eve was the mother of monsters, but she had been born of the Leviathan. All monsters on earth descended from her, and all monster's souls were cast into purgatory when they died, each soul another seal trapping the Leviathan there.

And that was undoubtedly a very, very good thing, as Andy doubted that even Sam could combat Lucifer, the angels, and the Leviathan.

There were a handful of other things they had reason to believe might be able to withstand the colt, but without the gun, they really couldn't test their theories.

The important thing was, they were very certain that Azazel was _not_ immune.

And even more importantly, though they still didn't know the process by which the gun was created (Sam had once found a reference to someone called 'Joseph', but they'd never determined exactly who that was), they knew one thing the original would do.

It would unlock the binding spell Samuel Colt had cast on the Western Hell Gate, on of the largest on the planet, now that Atlantis was sunk.

The devil's trap laid into the earth out west, camouflaged by the rail road tracks Colt had laid down were not meant to keep demons in, on the contrary, they were meant to keep demons out, and the rails were made of blessed iron, forged by priests who had used holy water and salt in the process. As each section was laid, a priest had again blessed it, working layer upon layer into the iron. The spell had held, at least until now, but if Azazel found the Colt first, Andy had no doubt he had a plan to destroy the trap.

The Western Gate was massive, metaphysically speaking. Physically it was small, housed inside a marble crypt in an old country cemetery, but once it was opened, it would let all sorts of trouble out, demons and other monsters that couldn't normally squeeze through the smaller rips in the seams between this world and hell.

It was also the gate closest to where Lilith's own cage was located.

Lilith was the first demon, and she was powerful in the extreme. But God's fury and Michael's righteousness had trapped her in the pit. Not the way Lucifer was trapped, unable to communicate with even his own creations, but bound nonetheless to the realm of Hell.

Legend was that only when the Western Hell Gate was opened that Lilith could gain the surface.

And until she was topside, their plan couldn't move forward.

But first, they needed the Colt.

Andy sat down and began reading.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava tightrope walked along the ledge that separated the small board walk from the water of the harbor, not even flinching as the sound of wings suddenly echoed behind her.

"I have trouble believing that you've managed to hide those wings for so long if they're so loud every time you go somewhere." She murmured, watching the fishing fleet as it moved further out onto the water.

Gabe tilted his head at her curiously, studying her. "Most people can't hear them unless I want them too." He said.

Then, with a narrowing of his eyes, he asked "Can you see them?"

She glanced over at him, shrugging as she extending her arms, a playful imitation of the Arch Angels invisible appendages. "Sometimes. I can see the shadow of them, the way they move. I can see the...space...around them."

Gabe looked at her thoughtfully. The ability to see an angel's wings naturally was rare, and not necessarily a gift all demons had.

"Sam can see them." She added unnecessarily, twirling in a pirouette, and he rolled his eyes.

"How not surprised am I?" He asked sarcastically.

She pursed her lips. "Touchy little tree topper today, aren't we?"

"And just what is it about racist ghost's murdering upstanding citizens that's got you so excited?" He asked with a raised brow.

"I'm probably going to get to rip the heart out of some uptight racist asshole with a stick up his-" The angel cut her off before she could go any further into her pre-lunch plans.

"So, I take it that it's your turn to baby sit the righteous man." He guessed, wondering if she would admit to it. The demon was a funny mix of lies and honesty, playfulness and violence.

If he were honest with himself, he kind of liked it.

"They don't exactly grow on trees." She murmured. "Besides, Dean's fun to watch. Like a dog chasing a stick that's actually his tail."

"And he's rather excellent bait, if I had to guess." Gabe added, lifting his brow.

It was no secret that the elder Winchester had been digging around, and as time went by, it was more and more likely that he would begin to attract attention from the wrong sorts.

That was probably what Ava was really looking forward too, but the idea of the capricious Arch Demon handling damage control was both amusing and terrifying.

She shrugged again, a smirk gracing her features. "A girl's gotta eat."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam hung up the phone, thinking over the conversation he'd just had with Andy.

His brother had finished reading through Samuel Colt's journals, and though they had been full of plenty of valuable information, they gave no hint as to whether their lead on Elkins would really pan out.

Jake, Max and Lily were still hunting for the nest responsible for the hunter's death, but Sam had never manged to confirm that the destroyed vault at Elkin's home had ever actually contained the weapon they sought.

The journals had ended several years before Samuel Colt's death, however, leading Andy to believe there may have been others, or at least one more, and Sam concurred that it was quite likely.

Which meant they were now searching for several things.

The Colt and the bullets that went with it, as well as any information on how they had been made in the first place.

Azazel's location, and any other arch demons he might have created that they didn't know about. Sam and Ava had both been keeping an eye out, but there was always the possibility.

Anselm was still working on the ingredients to the spell Metatron had given them, but it was proving difficult.

And now, thanks to Viaxes, Sam now had reason to believe that Dean was not only the righteous man, who may or may not have to go to hell in order to break the first seal, but that he was also the Michael sword.

Sam had heard whispers of the Michael Sword, but he had not realized the angels had Dean lined up for that position. He needed to find out if such a thing were possible, for one man to both start and potentially end an apocalypse.

Now, to add to all that, he needed to locate a journal that may or may not exist, while keeping the arch demons safe, Dean alive, John out of the way, Meg off Azazel's radar, and he probably needed to check in with Ava soon, to see how she was handling her tree topper stalker, all why hopefully locating half a dozen more angel blades, a cupid, a nephilim, to discover any other potential information on the seals Lilith would most likely try to break, and, of course, the Demon cure, which would also, somehow require the righteous man who would either start, end or in some other way complicate the impending apocalypse.

Perhaps it was time to...delegate.

He picked up his phone, dialing decisively.

"Bela. I have a job for you."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean pulled up to the gracious house sitting under the old trees filled with trailing moss, making a face at the humidity in the air as he got out of the Impala.

A dozen times on the drive down, he'd had to fight the urge to turn around and head north again, where his gut told him Sam was, most likely still in the mid-west, or perhaps simply the west by now.

But something in Cassie's voice had called to him, reminding him of how many times she had comforted him while he'd searched desperately for a lost little brother.

She hadn't been able to handle the real truth, of course, when he'd finally broken down and told her everything, but still, she'd been a warm body at a time when he'd wondered if he'd ever feel warm again, and he knew he'd never have a chance of reminding Sam who he really was if he didn't force himself to remember who he was, also.

A pretty, mocha skinned girl in a black dress was coming down the stairs of the front porch, and a tiny part of him mourned what they might have been, but he forced it down.

If Sam didn't have time for 'might have beens' then Dean sure as hell didn't either.

"Dean. I wasn't sure you'd come."

"Neither was I." He admitted honestly, she still had that same knack of wringing the honesty out of him despite himself.

"I'm sorry about your dad." He offered.

She looked at him, serious eyes luminous with tears. "It's even worse now than when I called last night. There's been another death. Whatever is doing this, it's escalating."


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Okay guys, I know this is my serious, dark-side story, but sometimes my plot bunny gets in a humorous mood, and I end up with a chapter that edges on funny more than dark at times. But it seems to me the show is a little like that also, so I decided to go with it. This chapter and then next will fall into that territory, just FYI.**

**Life's being a little stressful right now, and Ava and I just kind of felt like going head to head with a pissed off monster truck.**

**Pity the truck, kiddos, because my bad moods make Armageddon look like a birthday party, and Ava's not the kind of character to say, "No, EverReader, dynamite might be a little over the top, and we probably need the state of Mississippi for something..."**

**So, in other news. "Tuesday's Child" updated at like, two am this morning, because I am an over caffeinated insomniac, and it's a good thing, too, as the rest of my day so far has been completely useless. "Prisoner of War" updated Saturday, and "Confessions of a Boy King" updated Friday.**

**Friday I also posted a stand alone tag to my story "Tuesday's Child", called "A Space Shaped Like Home", so if you're following that project, you might jump over and read it.**

**Oh, and Happy Birthday StyxxsOmega, I'm not sure if you follow this project or just my other ones, but happy birthday none the less.**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. In case you haven't noticed, I don't always play nicely with my toys...**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Twenty-Nine**

"**Black, White and Red All Over"**

Dean walked along the side of the road with Cassie, surveying the latest crime scene. Apparently the victim had been her god-father, as well as her boss at the newspaper.

"I just don't know why someone would hurt George, he was the kindest man." She was saying, near tears again. "Unless it was racially motivated. The town's not half as bad as some around these parts, but this is the second death on this road in less than a week, and both George and my father were prominent men in the community, upstanding citizens with lots of friends. I can't think of any personal enemies they would have, race is the only motivator left."

Discreetly, Dean checked the homemade EMF reader he had in his pocket. It was definitely picking up something, the needle would jump wildly for a moment and then plummet again. It had been doing so the entire stretch of the road, and Dean wondered if it were the highway that had been haunted, or the men, or both.

"Mayor Thomas!" Cassie called suddenly as a tall, thin Caucasian man walked up to them. "Now do you believe me that something strange is going on? I warned you after my father was killed."

Mayor Thomas sighed. "Well, Cassie darling, what exactly do you want me to do? Shut down the only highway in and out of town? The townspeople would be barricaded in!"

"Better than dead!" She retorted, and the man rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Cassie, I know you're upset, but I need you to promise me you won't put anything inflammatory in the news today. You'll get people stirred up for no reason, when there's nothing they can do."

Cassie's nostrils flared. "So, what, your telling me to quash the story, just cover up the murder of two black men in the same week on the same road?"

Mayor Thomas narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't you do that, Cassie girl. I'm the last person you should be throwing the race card at, and if you don't believe me, you can ask your momma!"

He walked away quickly then, and Dean turned to Cassie inquiringly. "What was that about?" He asked.

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Mom's never said much about it before, and I can't exactly go and ask her right now. She's a complete wreck, barely sleeping, barely eating."

"Okay, it's okay..." Dean soothed. "We'll figure it out another way."

"Poor form, Dean-o." The flippant voice called, and Dean closed his eyes in irritation.

Of course, it couldn't be Sam or Andy or even Anselm who showed up.

It had to be Ava.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw she wasn't alone, however. A sandy-haired man with a smirk was walking just a little ways behind her, and he tensed as he recognized him from the night of his car wreck.

Who the hell was this guy? Hadn't Ava said seven of them had escaped hell? Was this some other random demon?

"Letting witnesses off easy isn't going to get the case solved, and you know it, Winchester." Ava proclaimed with a smirk.

"Who the hell are you?" Cassie asked defensively.

"Old family friend." Ava replied, with a sarcastic, one-side smile. "Or rather, a friend of Sam's would be more accurate."

Dean heard Cassie suck in a breath as she turned to him. "Sam, as in, your brother, Sam? He's alive?"

Dean made a face. "It's a long story, but yeah. He's back. This is Ava, they're...associates." He said, unwilling to call her Sam's sister.

Ava snorted as she started pacing the crime scene, like a tiger trying to catch a scent in the air. The sandy-haired man simply stood back, watching her with careful eyes.

"Who are you, though?" Dean asked him.

The man grinned. "Oh, I'm an associate too. The name's Gabe."

Dean saw Ava glance at Gabe with a surprised look on her face, and he surmised that Gabe must have actually given him his real name, which she hadn't been expecting.

"Why are you guys here?" Dean asked, directing his question to Ava this time.

She stopped pacing, turning to look at him with a sarcastic face. "Seriously, Winchester? Half the time you're tearing up the countryside looking for us, and now you're trying to chase me off? Make up your mind already..." She said with a pout, turning smartly and starting to walk away.

Dean cursed internally. This case was going to be complicated enough with Ava's so called 'help', but she had a point, he was always looking for Sam and the others, was he really going to send one away because of an old girlfriend?

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

As Ava sauntered away from Dean and Cassie, she met Gabe's eyes with a smirk.

"Three-two-one" She mouthed the words silently to him, and his lips twitched.

"Ava, wait. Ok, just...wait a minute." Dean called,

"It's a fire sale, and everything must go..." She sing-songed softly, a phrase she had often heard one of the crossroads demons use when she had still been trapped in Hell.

She pivoted, looking the hunter in the eye. "Okay, Dean. Here's the deal." She spoke lowly, partially because the information she was saying didn't need to be overheard by anyone other than the two of them (three if she counted Gabe, who could no doubt hear them, but who was counting), and partially because she enjoyed the annoyed expression that crossed Cassie's features when Dean leaned forward to catch her words.

"Sam figures, odds are good that the guys who came after you before might try again." She said.

Dean scowled. "I don't need a freaking baby-sitter!"

She raised a brow, but let his comment slide, instead saying, "Be that as it may, anyone coming after you has most likely been sent by Azazel, which means your brother would very much like to talk to them. You already know that Azazel came after Missouri, and if Sam hadn't been there, she'd already be way south of the equator."

Dean's scowl darkened. "So, what, I'm bait?"

She rolled her eyes. "Think of yourself as a sure bet. Eventually, trouble is going to show up on your doorstep, and all I want is in on that action. You want me to stay out of your case, fine, but it's your loss, hunter. No one hunts the monsters better than one of their own."

Dean chewed his lip for a moment, nodding. "Fine, just keep Cassie out of the messy details. And your friend..."

"Gabe? Oh, he's already gone." She said airily.

Dean looked around in surprise, but sure enough, the sandy-haired man was gone. "Who the hell is that guy, Ava? Another Demon?"

Her eyes widened a little and she grinned. "Quite the contrary. No, you might say he's a...free agent."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Be more specific."

She rolled her eyes again. "Whatever. Have you ever heard of a trickster?"

Dean thought for a moment. "Native American Raven Gods?"

She see-sawed with her hand. "Every culture has their own flavor. They like meting out justice...creatively. Gabe's been around a long time, longer than pretty much anyone you'll ever meet. He follows me sometimes when he gets bored."

Dean raised his own brow. "You have a pet...trickster?"

She shrugged. "He does his own thing. Apparently, I amuse him. He comes and goes."

Dean made a face. "AS long as he stays gone, that's fine."

She shrugged again, studying her nails. "No promises. So, any lead on the ghost with the most?"

"What do you mean?" Cassie asked, coming to join them, studying Ava suspiciously.

"The ghost taking out people on this highway. I can't get a grip on just what he is, but jeez, is he angry. It seems like it...flares up and-"

"Flares down again, yeah, that's what the EMF shows too." Dean agreed reluctantly.

"Wait, are you some kind of psychic?" Cassie asked, turning back to Ava.

Ava looked at her, an unreadable expression on her face. "I've been around." She replied.

Turning back to Dean, she said, "Look, I know the wife's all shook up and all that jazz, but there's a reason Cassie's dad died first. Anything suspicious happen before?"

"I'll ask the questions." Dean interjected, and she waved him away as she walked towards the center of the road. She could hear Dean question Cassie gently in the back ground, but she paid it little heed, instead trying to focus on the threads of...something.

Maybe echos was a better word.

What had happened here?

"Ava!" Dean raised his voice sharply, and she rolled her eyes again.

"Come on, we're going back to Cassie's place." Dean ordered.

"Oh, you know, I probably have to go...be...someplace...else..." She said, frowning in distaste at the thought off being shut up in a house with the two ex-lovebirds.

She'd rather be back on the rack.

"Tough. You wanted in, so you're in. I'm keeping an eye on you." Dean said.

"Strike me down now..."She muttered, climbing into the back of the Impala.

A few hours later, as she listened to Dean and Cassie once again talk circles around the problem, she felt the hairs on her arms begin to rise, as the temperature began to drop.

Eyes widening in excitement, she leaned forward blowing gently on the glass of the window. It fogged up immediately, even though she knew it was nearly ninety degrees outside.

"Awesome..." She whispered, glad _something_ was finally happening.

Just then headlights broke the darkness, aimed straight for the house. The loud rumble of a truck engined filled the night air.

"Hey guys!" She called, "We got company!"

Dean and Cassie raced over to the windows beside her. "It's a black truck, just like my father saw before he'd died." Cassie said, clearly shaken.

Dean looked at her. "Cassie, this truck isn't familiar to you at all? You've never seen it before, ever?"

Cassie shook her head, "No, I don't understand, why is it after my family?"

"Because it's mad at you." Ava said, tired of her wailing.

Bad shit happened.

Get over it.

She headed for the front door.

"Ava, what the hell are you doing?" Dean barked.

She looked over her shoulder. "What does it look like? I'm going to go play with the spooky ghost truck. Vroom-Vroom, bitches." With that, she let the door slam shut behind her as she stalked down the front porch steps.

"Come out, come out wherever you are..." She sang softly, spreading her feet to a fighting stance.

The sound of the truck's engines grew even louder, echoing in the mist and she grinned ferally.

The truck's engine revved, and it shot towards her, only too disappear once it had gone a few yards off the road. It reappeared a second later, on the east end of the house, only to repeat the same trick.

Ava narrowed her eyes.

It was _playing_ with her.

She smirked.

"Let's play, then." She said aloud, launching into an old creole chant, voodoo, no white magic hoodoo for this demon.

The truck's engine revved again, the lights flickering on and off again, blinding her with every circuit.

She continued her chant, and finally, with a screech of it's engine, the truck pealed away, trailing a stream of anger and hate so thick she could taste it, metallic on her tongue, like old blood.

"Well, someone's in a bad mood." She turned back to the porch, where Dean and Cassie were both standing, Cassie wide eyed, and Dean solemn.

"What the hell are you?" Cassie whispered, and Ava grinned.

"Let's not get into the boring details. That thing'll be back. I need white chalk, and a black cat."

"For what?" Dean asked, as Cassie's eyes widened in alarm.

She looked at them deadpan. "I always wanted a pet. No, you idiots. You think a dream catcher's gonna keep that thing out of here while we find the original and torch it? Serious protection takes serious mojo, and I'm sure as hell not opening a vein for your girlfriend, Winchester."

Dean looked at her intently. "Was that a ghost rider?" He asked. "With the lights, I couldn't see it clearly."

"You couldn't see him because there was no him." Ava said. "The whole thing's an apparition, the thing driving it's fused to the truck somehow. That's why your EMF went nuts. It's not used to reading semi-mechanical interference. Now, go get me a cat, Winchester, or your girlfriends next, because that little song and dance of mine won't keep it away forever."

"Hoodoo?" Cassie asked incredulously.

"Voodoo." Dean corrected her. "Hoodoo's white magic, and Ava's anything but. Here..." He said, walking towards her while rolling up his sleeve. "Everyone keeps telling me I'm righteous, whatever the hell that means. We don't have time to play vet." He held out his arm.

She looked at him steadily for a moment. "Geez. Soft touch." She knelt down, grabbing up a handful of soil. "Cassie, how long has your family lived here?" She asked.

"My mother's family has lived here for generations." She replied, walking towards then.

Ava nodded. "Okay then, let's get cooking. Dean, I need some of your blood and a little of Cassie's, and then you guys better get some real answers from her mother, because even this won't last past the next new moon."

Using the dirt and the blood from the others, she made a muddy paste, and walked over to the door, marking symbols on it.

"What are you doing?" Cassie asked.

"It says 'no solicitors'" Ava replied back sarcastically, as she finished the protection ward. She really had no idea how well it would hold, she was using the wrong ingredients, but she thought it might hold long enough for them to find the asshole who used to have a truck like that.

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Bela studied Sam beneath lowered lids.

"And you think there's another journal, like these two?" She asked, looking at the book in her hands intently.

Sam nodded. "We have no reason to believe otherwise, and if there is, not only do we need the information in it, but we can't afford to let Lilith and Azazel get their hands on it."

She nodded, convinced of the necessity of the search when Sam mentioned Lilith. "And you have no idea where to start looking?" She said.

"These two were found out west, in a nest of vampires. I'm guessing they were split up and sold, decades ago, probably. Collectors who know what to look for would grab something like that up in an instant. You'll probably have to go back a few decades, auctions, estate sales, wills and last testaments. The spirits might help you, though I've heard that Colt himself in unreachable."

She nodded. "Most of the best hunters are, for some reason. Good thing, too, because a spirit like that in the wrong hands could wreck serious havoc. So, your thinking out west, to start?"

Sam nodded. "Here's the address of where we found the first two. Start by tracing them back, and then make your best guess at tracing the others forward."

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Cassie put down the phone with a shaking hand, and Dean looked at her in concern.

"Cassie?" He asked, feeling Ava's eyes on him. He hated her, and yet he was grateful at the same time, because Cassie's mom was still refusing to talk, and without a body to burn, Dean wasn't sure how to keep a ghost like that out. A salt line wouldn't hold forever, but hopefully Ava's spell, whatever it had been, would be more effective. He'd tried to watch her work, but it was obviously with every deft movement that Ava didn't just work magic, she was magic, and it made his skin crawl.

Man, he hated witch craft.

"Mayor Thomas is dead. He was killed a few hours ago. He was run over, from inside his own car, and the sheriff said there are tire tracks all over the road." Cassie said tearfully.

A small gasp came from the doorway, and the three of them turned as one to look at Camille, standing in the doorway.

"Ready to talk?" Ava asked from where she was leaning against the unused fireplace. When Dean shot her an angry look, she shrugged.

"She obviously knows more than she's saying. Look." She addressed Camille directly. "This thing's after you, and it's after your kid. You can play delicate southern belle, and watch your entire family die, or you can tell us what the fuck is going on, so Dean here can play hero and rescue your dumb asses. It's up to you."

Camille opened her mouth, shutting it again, only to reopen it. "It was a long, long time ago..." She began tearfully...


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Okay, kiddos, I admit I had some fun with this chapter, and at one point I changed up the format. Hopefully it still reads okay, I just had this fun image of how the conference call might have played out, and I wanted to portray that as best as I could.**

**Reviews are love**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Thirty**

"**Conference Call"**

Lily stalked the empty parking lot, reaching out with all her senses, as Jake watched their surroundings vigilantly. The cars were long gone, the bar having closed hours ago.

"And this is where he was going?" Jake asked, chewing his lip.

"Yes, but that was over two hours ago. He would have called if he'd found something." She replied, pacing anxiously. Dread churned in her stomach, every one of her instincts screaming that something was wrong-wrong-wrong.

They needed to find Max.

"Maybe he just got hungry?" Jake asked, but from his tone, Lily knew he didn't really believe his own words.

She shook her head adamantly. "No. He would have called. And why can't I find him?" She said in frustration, pushing down her mounting worry.

Jake frowned. "Seriously, though. Why can't you find find? None of his wards shield him from you, your too closely linked. What's strong enough to hide him from you? Is it the same thing you were sensing a few days ago?"

She shook her head. "No, that other thing was...different. I could tell something was out there, I just couldn't see what it was. Max is just...gone."

"What could do that? Another demon?" He asked, coming to stand closer. His brother disappearing on his watch was bad, Lily disappearing on his watch would be catastrophic.

She shook her head again. "I think it has to be the place...wherever it it they took his must have wards like we use. Strong ones, ones that stop him from reaching me psychically."

Jake cursed, a low stream of fluent Hellspeak.

Lily was becoming more and more upset by the moment, and to combat the fear, she tried to switch her mindset to the one Sam had encouraged back in hell, where the right attitude meant survival.

Don't become frightened. Become something even more frightening.

She flexed her hands, breathing in deeply as black crackles of electricity danced along her fingertips.

Looking over at her brother, she said, "You should probably start making some calls."

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Anselm grinned ferally as he circled his opponent. It might night be Rainier, but Marcus was Rainier's right hand man, and that made it a pretty good day in his opinion.

He'd been meaning to get Marcus for a few decades now, as payback for some of the pain he and Rainier had dished out to Ava and Lily over the years.

Now was his chance.

Lightning quickly, he lashed out with his knife, at the same time that Dante shot forward, teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

The feint worked, though Marcus managed to avoid Anselm's blade, Dante was able to cleave on to his leg, and with a ferocious shaking motion, she pulled the surprised Demon to the ground.

"You think you're winning, but your wrong!" Marcus snarled. "One down, six to go. Say hello to your king for me!"

Black smoke swirled outward, even as Anselm began the reverse exorcism, trying to lock him in, but one of Marcus's talents had always been speed.

Frowning, he got in his car quickly, putting distance between himself and the last place Marcus's allies would be looking for him at.

Frowning, he thought over Marcus's words.

One down.

Well, that didn't sound encouraging.

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Dean found himself grateful that Bobby had lent him a truck with some ass behind it, to quote his father.

Slowly but steadily, the truck levered Cyrus's truck out of the swamp. Filthy and rusty, it had streamers of moss and algae and other gunk hanging from it, and torrents of brackish water was streaming from the cab.

Ava watched idly, but Dean noticed she was also keeping a watch on their surroundings, since it seemed doubtful that Cyrus would go quietly into the night.

No sooner had he thought the words than the sound of an engine filled the night.

"Company!" Ava called again, and Dean was glad Cassie had stayed behind, where it was safe.

The truck was completely out of the swamp now, and Dean grimaced as he yanked open the driver's side door.

"Oh, that is so gross." Ava said from behind him, looking over his shoulder. Dean wanted to tease her, the big bad arch demon, but honestly, he had to agree with her.

Cyrus's body had fused with the seat of the truck, seemingly to melt into the leather and metal.

"There's no way your getting that out. Besides, the car's haunted too." Ava pointed out (rather unhelpfully in Dean's opinion.

Dean scowled, gesturing to the body. "Well, go ahead already. Torch the fucker."

She looked at him like he was crazy. "Who the hell do you think I am? Carrie? You're the hunter. Salt and burn it, or whatever it is you do to save the world. I'm just auditing this class."

"Christ!" Dean swore, as the sound of the engine grew closer, and louder. He ran for the truck's lock box, quickly searching through the gear Bobby had stowed there.

Running back to the monster truck, he shoved a can of gasoline into Ava's arms.

"Get your pyro on!" He yelled, and she grinned.

"Now we're talking!" She said, dousing the body and the truck liberally with gasoline as Dean did the same with the salt.

The both stood back as Dean flicked a disposable light (no reason to lose his good zippo over a racist asshole like Cyrus, in his opinion) and tossed it into the cab of the truck, and then they waited.

And waited.

"Okay, so, new at this good guy hero-thing..." Ava said after a moment. "But, aren't there supposed to be, I don't know...flames or something? I thought you were good at this?"

Dean scowled at her, "It's too wet. Even the gasoline's not enough. We need another plan!"

Just then, lights crested the hill, blinding the hunter.

"Ava, we better move!" He yelled, turning back to see her standing in front of him.

With a stick of C4 clutched in each hand.

Why the Hell did Bobby keep C4 in his ruck anyway?

"Oh no!" He said, shaking his head at her. "No way. Your not dynamiting it!"

She grinned, excitement making her eyes sparkle as she shook her head. "Too late, this is just what was left over. We should drive now."

Dean's eyes widened almost comically before he shoved her into his truck.

Pealing forward as quickly as he dared in the dark on rough terrain, they barely cleared minimum safe distance before Cyrus's truck exploded into the night, debris raining down around them.

Dean turned to her, mouth agape. "What the hell was that? Does Sam let you play with C4?"

She looked at him, lips pursed. "Well, you said we needed another plan. I liked it. I'm going to ask for a box of this stuff for my birthday."

Dean opened his mouth and then closed it again, feeling a little like a goldfish.

Just then, blinding lights shone into the air, as the sounds of engines revving returned, louder than ever.

"Huh. What now?" Ava said, turning to Dean curiously, as if her recipe hadn't turned out right and did he think they should grab take out instead.

"Now we drive!" Dean yelled, putting the truck into gear.

"I still have two sticks of..." She began.

"NO MORE DYNAMITE!" He yelled. "What about your creepy demon kids, or that voodoo you pulled earlier?"

She made a face. "He's too strong, and this whole stretch of highway is his home turf. Besides, magic takes time-" her words cut off as Dean took a sharp turn.

"Well, then call someone!" Dean said, turning sharply again, feeling like a stunt driver as he attempted to avoid the other trucks advances. "Call Sam."

She looked at him. "I'm not going to bug Sam over something like this."

"CALL SOMEONE!" Dean yelled again, barely making the next turn. "Call that boyfriend of yours!"

"My what? You mean, who, Gabe?" She asked, horrified. "You think we're an item?"

"Ava! Focus!" Dean yelled, barely avoiding an oncoming car.

She turned to face him. "Okay, first of all, Gabe? Not my boyfriend. Not even close!"

"AVA!"

She ignored him. "And secondly, even if he was, do you really think I'm the kind of girl to call her boyfriend just because she's having car trouble?"

"Ava, so help me god-" Dean yelled.

She through up her hands. "Fine, fine. You drive, I'll dial. Let's try Andy."

A moment later she hung up. "No good. Alright, fine. I'll call Gabe."

Another moment later. "Men are so useless..." She muttered, finally trying a last number as Dean continued to duck and weave, the speedometer clearly in the red.

"I guess Sam's busy too. Okay, just let me out here, and I'll take a stab at it." She said, snapping her phone closed.

"What? Are you crazy?" Dean yelled.

She grinned a little, shrugging carelessly. "Yeah... it'll be...fun."

Dean rolled his eyes. "No. No way. What the hell are you going to do, you said nothing you had worked."

She chewed her lip, swaying with the motion on the racing vehicle. "Well, the dynamite worked. I'll think of something."

"You'll think of something? Something? Some random thing that might work!" Dean yelled, jerking hard to the right to avoid being battered by the truck. "A thing?"

"Yeah!" She mouthed back. "A thing. Let me out. I got this."

"I'm not letting you out so you can do 'a thing'." Dean snapped. He hated her, but he didn't want her dead on his watch.

Just then, her phone began ringing. She looked down. "It's Sam. I'll put it on speaker."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam: (mildly concerned) "Ava, what's going on?"

Ava: (pouting)"Sam, tell your brother to let me do the thing!"

Dean: (mutters under breath) "Crazy bitch..."

Sam: (concerned/amused) "And just what does the 'thing' involve? What's going on?"

Dean: (snarling sarcastically)"Playing chicken with a racist monster ghost truck!"

Ava: (helpfully/hopefully) "And dynamite. Can I have some dynamite for Christmas?"

Sam: (patiently) "We'll discuss that later. Dean, what's going on?"

Ava: (enjoying herself immensely) "Hold on, Andy's calling back. I'll conference him in."

Andy: (curious) "Ava? What's up?

Sam: (taking charge) "Ghost truck. I'm assuming fire didn't work."

Dean: (trying not to freak out) "Too wet, and too old. The dynamite didn't work either."

Ava: (still having too much fun) "I'm willing to try again, though!"

Andy: (mildly alarmed)"Dynamite? Is this some kind of ghost rider?"

Dean: "Yes."

Ava: (same time) "No, hey, Gabe's calling back, let me conference him in."

Dean: (disbelieving) "How many lines can your phone conference?"

Sam/Andy/Ava: "It's a demon thing."

Gabe: (surprised) "Ava? I actually programed this number in as a joke, you know."

Dean: (pissed off) "Monster truck, people! Killer monster truck after us, _right now._ Fire didn't work, need ideas RIGHT NOW!"

Andy: (mild concern) "Where are you guys?"

Dean: (alarmed at Ava hanging out the window of the pick up truck) "Terrence County, Mississippi. AVA! No more dynamite!"

Gabe: (interested) "Dynamite? Is this a ghost rider?"

Andy: (now engaged in problem solving mode) "Hold on, I'm pulling you up on the computer."

Sam: "Anselm's calling me, I should go. You guys got this?"

Andy/Ava/Gabe: (confidently)"Yes."

Dean: "No!"

Sam: (line goes dead.)

Ava: (determined) "That's it, I'm going to do the thing."

Gabe/Andy:(amused/alarmed) "What thing?"

Dean: (freaked out) "NO! AVA, GET YOUR ASS BACK IN THIS TRUCK OR SO HELP ME-_DAMN-SHIT-SCREW-FUCK."_

Gabe: (amused) "I take it she did the thing?"

Dean: (reluctant)"...Yeah."

Andy: (concerned) "Dean...where's my sister?"

Dean: (even more reluctant) "She just sort of blinked...out, and now she's out on the road a mile back going at that thing."

Andy: (a moment of long suffering silence) "Dean, where are you, exactly?"

Dean: "Highway 66, mile marker- 44."

Andy: (in an extremely pained voice) "Gabe, I hate to ask, but it appears my sister needs a wing man."

Gabe: (chuckling) Say please...

Andy: (in a voice promising pain, death and suffering) "...please."

Gabe: (triumphantly)"On it." (line goes dead).

Andy: "Dean, here's what you need to do once Ava and Gabe are clear. Up ahead, exactly one eighth of a mile, is an old abandoned church. My records show it's been burned down for years."

Dean: (pissed, again) "You don't say, since the guy CHASING ME IS THE ONE WHO DID IT!"

Andy: (brief pause) "Huh. Well, that actually works to our benefit."

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Sam frowned as he thought about what Anselm was telling him, about Marcus's last words."

"And he said, one down, six to go?" He asked tersely, not likely to the probable meaning.

"Yeah. But I'm the only one without a partner right now. Well, and Andy." Anselm said, concerned.

"Andy and Ava are fine, I just spoke with them before you called. And the other three are together." Sam said, but even as he did, another call tried to come through.

"Anselm, that's Jake. I better go."

"Got it." Anselm said, hanging up quickly.

"Jake, what's the word." Sam commanded.

"Sam, it's Max. He's gone missing. Lily can't sense him anywhere, and she's...not happy."

"I'm on my way."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava sauntered towards the truck, where it had stopped on the road, engine revving as it readied itself to try and run her over.

She twirled on of the remaining sticks of dynamite between her fingers.

"Come on, Cyrus!" She called, laughing. "Come and get me." Under her breath, she muttered, "Here there be dragons, asshole."

She didn't particularly have a plan, but hey, this was the most fun she'd had all week.

She was totally getting a case of this C4 stuff. Hunters got all the fun toys. Maybe Anselm would get her some, he owed her for the tiger...

The truck shot forward then, and she braced herself for impact, starting a chant that might (okay, probably wouldn't, but what the hell) allow her to survive being run over at sixty miles an hour with dynamite in her hands (vroom-vroom bitches) when suddenly she felt herself being lifted.

She blinked, disoriented, only to realize Gabe was standing with her on the side of the road, holding her in his arms as the truck disappeared in the distance, chasing after Dean.

"I totally had that under control" She pouted.

He raised a brow. "Obviously. Are you okay?"

She raised her own brows. "Okay, I was just nearly run down by a homicidal ghost truck that was pissed off at me for blowing it up! I'M AWESOME!"

He laughed, setting her down. She looked over at him.

"Any good reason you're not taking a crack at it? It's small potatoes for you?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Dean gets a little too much media attention."

They walked ahead, seeing Dean's truck parked off the road on what looked to be the burnt out foundation of an old building.

"Hallow ground. Clever." Gabe remarked.

Ava pouted a little. "Where do you buy dynamite?" She asked.

Gabe grinned as a shaky Dean got out of the truck, tossing Ava's phone to her. "I'll get you a case for Christmas."

Ava laughed gleefully, stopping suddenly when her phone rang. Opening it, she started to walk out of earshot.

"Lily, what's up?

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean did his best to steady his shaking legs, feeling the eyes of the sandy-eyed man, the trickster, according to Ava, as they studied them.

"Take a picture!" Dean snapped in irritation.

The man raised a brow. "You do realize you should be thanking me, right?"

Dean scowled. "What, for rescuing the she-demon? She's insane, Sam'd be better off without her.

The man narrowed his eyes at Dean. "You don't seem to get it, do you Dean? I know all about you and Sam and the others. I know you want your little brother back. What you don't get is that Sam needs Ava and Andy and all the others. You've been searching for proof that your brother still have a soul. Well, there it is!" He said, gesturing to where Ava stood talking in the distance.

"Azazel took everything from Sam but them. What exactly do you think will happen if something happens to one of them, now, when Sam's just starting to feel like he's managed to protect and save them. Don't you get how bad it would have been if she had died tonight, if any of them had?"

Dean pressed his lips together. "That sounds almost like a threat."

Gabe shook his head. "It is what it is, hunter. But mark my words, your brother needs them. Your looking for the link to Sam's humanity, and they are it."

Ava walked over just then, pale and serious.

"Hey, wings, I need a ride." She said the words in short, clipped phrases. Gone was the laughing girl, instead in her place was the demon Dean had first encountered.

"What's wrong?" Gabe asked intently, and Dean looked over at him, wondering if, despite Ava's protestations, there was something between the two of them,

She barely glance at either of them. "Max is gone, Lily is in death con four mode, and Sam's already in route. I have to go."


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Okay, here we go. Next chapter of All The Pretty Monsters.**

**************So, this chapter has a trigger warning outside of it's normal ones, for implied sexual abuse. It's never talked about too directly, either on the show or in this story, but let's be honest, kids. My characters spent nearly a century in Hell. It's probably naive to pretend it didn't happen, but I don't feel the need to be too graphic with this sort of details. I just wanted to give you guys a heads up. **

**Reviews Are Love**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Thirty-One**

"**The Eye Of The Storm"**

Sam stalked into the room, the windows frosting over nearly as soon as he entered. Jake looked over from the window, and Lily stopped her pacing.

"What do we have?" Sam demanded, voice ice cold and dead serious.

"Max is still missing. No phone call, no clues." Jake said solemnly.

"No psychic contact either. I can't sense him. I've called Ava." Lily added.

"Anselm is going to join Andy, but they won't be coming here." Sam said decisively.

Jake looked at him seriously. "You think they're using Max as bait."

Sam nodded once curtly. "We'd already know if he was dead. That mean's their keeping him alive."

"Which means they want us to come after him." Jake deduced.

"Then we'll accommodate." Lily said lowly, eyes flashing and fingers crackling with energy as she clenched and un-clenched her fists.

"No. Once Ava's here, she'll help me use her deck of cards to locate Max. Then the rest of you will be spreading out. This is a trap, and I refuse to allow them to capture us all." Sam ordered.

"If it's a trap, it's a trap for you, Sam. You're who he wants the most. It should be any of us, hell, all of us before you should be the one to go." Jake argued.

Sam looked at him coldly. "No."

Jake swallowed, but didn't argue again as the temperature dropped so far so quickly that the pains of glass in the window actually starting cracking.

Lily came to stand in front of him. "I'm going." She said.

Sam looked at her intently, searching her eyes, before nodding once. "Fine. Lily comes with. She might be helpful if Max has been harmed. Jake, once Ava has done her part, you'll take her to the eastern safe house we established."

Jake frowned. "Sam, if Max has been interrogated, none of the safe houses may still be safe."

Sam nodded in acknowledgment, even as Lily narrowed her eyes at Jake. "Max wouldn't have talked."

Jake frowned back. "Lily, you know better. They can make anyone talk."

"Anyone but Sam. " Ava said, stalking into the room like a class four hurricane, Dean and Gabe trailing behind her.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"What do you mean, Max is missing? And how's Gabe giving you a ride?" Dean said in confusion, looking from the demon to the trickster.

"He was with Lily and Jake. They split up to canvas the area, and suddenly Lily lost contact with him. Now he's AWOL, and even she can't find him." Ava said, voice low and serious, straight forward and too the point.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "And Sam's in route?" He said.

She nodded. "He and I have the best tracking capabilities. If Lily can't find him, it will need to be me and Sam."

"What can you do? How can you find him?" Dean demanded.

"I find your sorry ass all the time, don't I?" She replied, staring at the trickster with demanding eyes.

Some silent battle of wills seemed to be taking place between the two of them. Finally, Gabe said mulishly. "And give me just one reason I should be doing Sam or any of you any favors. I already saved you once tonight, tiger."

Dean waited for one of Ava's characteristic comebacks, but instead she simply replied "I need a ride." As if he'd never even voiced his question.

He shook his head. "Where are they?"

"Black hills. A town called Calston." She replied.

"If Sam's on his way, why do you need to be there?" Gabe said, narrowing his eyes.

She pressed her lips together. "He's going to be using a spell I crafted." She finally replied after a moment.

"The cards?" Gabe guessed, and she nodded reluctantly after a moment.

"What cards?" Dean asked, getting tired of being ignored.

"Ava created a neat little toy a while back, that can track any of the arch demons from the same bloodline, her bloodline. She and Sam must think they can use them to over come whatever warding or shielding is concealing their brother." Gabe answered, never taking his eyes off Ava. "You do realize this is obviously a trap?" He said.

"I need a ride." She repeated stubbornly.

Dean got the sense that Gabe didn't particularly want her anywhere near whatever was going down, and he didn't blame the guy. Despite whatever Ava said to the contrary, there was obviously something between them. Dean thought the trickster was right, this had trap wrote all over it, and he didn't want Sam anywhere near it either, though he doubted he would get his wish.

"You know, the last time I gave you a ride, you got airsick." Gabe argued conversationally.

She studied him coolly for a moment. "Fine."

She started to walk away quickly, glancing around. Whipping out her cell phone, she dialed quickly.

"Andy. I'm heading east of the church. I need a crossroads that's out of dodge of the church. Probably a mile out, at least. No, he's not interested in helping again. Okay, call me, quick. Sam's probably already there." She snapped her phone shut.

Dean looked at her disbelievingly. "You're not seriously making a crossroads deal, are you? I thought other demons were the problem in the first place?"

She spared him a derisive glare, but remained silent, walking quickly, the two men trailing behind her.

Gabe's lips thinned even more. "Know your history, hunter. There's a reason demon deals are made at crossroads. Their like highways for demon long distance traveling. Jumping crossroad to crossroad takes less energy." He raised his voice, clearly directing it to Ava, who was still ignoring them. "But still more than a living arch demon could manage without liquifying her brain!"

Ava kept walking. "Then give me a ride." She said tonelessly.

Dean frowned. "So, how's Sam getting there?"

Gabe chuckled mirthlessly. "Your brother's packing significantly more heat than the others, which is why Azazel wants him so bad."

"And why I need a ride." Ava emphasized, turning suddenly to face them.

Gabe stalked over to her. "Let Sam handle it."

She looked at him wordlessly, then turned around and continued walking. Her phone rang, and she pulled it out "Andy, what do you hav-"

Gabe snapped his fingers, and her phone was suddenly in Gabe's hand. Speaking into the receiver, he said "Andy, where exactly am I taking her. I want this right on the first trip. I'm a busy man."

A moment later he snapped the phone shut and turned to her. "This is going to hurt."

She waved her hand. "Blah blah. Life hurts. Don't take it so serious. No one makes it out alive anyway. Let's do this."

"I'm going to!" Dean announced, and Gabe and Ava turned to look at him.

"No." They said in perfect unison.

Dean scowled. "You just said my brother is about to walk into a trap. Either you take me too, or I put out the word on the hunter grapevine, all available units to Calston."

After a second, Ava shrugged. "Whatever. Take it up with Sam. Let's do this, wings."

Dean frowned again. "Why do you keep calling him wings-"

The world shifted suddenly, all bright light and sound and too much gravity and too little air, and then suddenly Dean landed, hard, on the floor.

They sure as hell weren't in Mississippi any more.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Ava closed her eyes against the light assaulting both her physical senses as well as her psychic ones. Nausea threatened her stomach, and her skin felt like it had been doused with acid. Dimly, she could feel a hand close around her arm, and assumed it was Gabe, as, to her knowledge, this was Dean's first experience with Angel Air, and though it wouldn't be half as painful for him, it would still be disconcerting.

"Breathe, Ava..." A low voice whispered in her ear, and she gasped as they landed. She would have fallen along with Dean, but Gabe's hand was still clutching her arm, and for just the barest second, she let him take her weight.

She was tired. She'd worked magic back at Cassie's, faced down a literal monster truck, found out her brother had been kidnapped, and had to travel via arch angel.

Every bone in her body ached, and for one short, sweet second she let someone else take the weight. Normally she would trust no one but her brothers, particularly Sam or Andy, see her so vulnerable, but the minute she walked into that room, Sam was going to need her fighting fit.

She straightened her back, stepping away from Gabe and breathing deeply. Once Dean had regained his feet, she said "Come on."

Turning smartly, she headed upstairs, to where she could sense the others.

She stepped into the room, breath fogging as she said "Anyone but Sam."

Lily, Jake and Sam turned to her, varying expressions of surprise crossing their faces as they saw Gabe, and then Dean.

Sam looked at her inquiringly, and she shrugged. "It was bring him along or shoot him. I can still shoot him?" She offered.

He pressed his lips together in displeasure, but he shook his head wordlessly. She wondered if he was letting her off easy because he could sense how tired she already was.

She looked over at her sister. "You got nothing? Astral projection? Psychic connection? Carrier pigeon?"

Lily shook her head, eyes gone dark with fear and fury. "He's gone totally dark."

Ava nodded, shooting a glance over to Sam. He met his eyes, shaking his head, and she breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

Sam didn't think he was dead, and if anyone other than Lily would have sensed Max's passing, it was Sam.

Sam held out her deck of cards, and she took them competently. "Roof?" She murmured, and he nodded assent.

She tossed a glance Dean's direction, but Sam seemed resigned to his presence, so she decided to ignore the hunter for the time being.

They filed onto the roof of the building, while Ava shuffled the cards introspectively, trying to sense the changes Sam had made to her original spell work.

What she sensed had her shaking her head, wondering why Sam bothered with her spell craft in the first place. What he did with a fraction of the power she had used was astounding.

Still, the cards were first created with her blood as the medium, and they seemed almost...happy to be back in her hands.

"I see you gave them wings..." She murmured, already reaching out with her mind, as she began shuffling the cards faster and faster.

She could feel the others, her siblings, the arch angel, even the hunter as they circled her, but her mind was wide open now, a door way as images flooded in and out. It was exhausting, but exhilarating at the same time, the cards filtering the strongest of the impacts, and the sensation of magic and power coursing through her felt a little like what she thought flying might feel like.

Breathing in deeply, she began flipping the cards up in the air, one at a time, the way Sam had altered them to work weeks back, and they began circling her, like a flock of birds, creating their own wind.

It was beautiful and absurd, and Ava had to repress the urge to laugh, because her magic was dark and bloody and low.

It was seldom this beautiful.

Closing her eyes in the center of the storm of swirling cards, she tried to focus, willing the blood link to make itself known.

In her mind a map was forming, lines of red light against a pitch black background. She was the center, and from her the lines radiated out, there was Lily, sparking and intense, and there was Jake, low and fierce. There was Sam, too bright to look at with even her minds eyes. There, stretching into the distance, were Andy and Anselm, the lines seeming to twist and twine around one another.

Other, fainter lines glowed softly, the newest batch of arch demons, and she knew that if she chose to follow them, all of Gabe's work would be useless, because blood always called to blood.

She could see the lines that led to Rainier, Meg, and Azazel, but they blurred and shifted, to fast and hard to have any hope of following from where they were, the product of well placed spell work on their ends.

And there. The line that so suddenly cut off, leaving a jagged, ripped edge.

That was Max.

At least Sam and Lily were right, and he was alive. Were he to have been killed, the line would be dark.

Instead, it was simply...gone. There and then not, as suddenly as if someone had taken a knife to it.

Or a very, very good spell.

She took a deep breath, pouring more power into the spell, trying to force the line to reveal itself. The concealment spell fought back, all snarling teeth and jagged corners, but she persevered.

This was nothing compared to Hell.

The pain wasn't what forced her to ask for help, but she could feel blood begin to trickle from her nose, and if she passed out, she'd lose the threads of the spell completely, and she was so close...

"Sam..." She barely managed the word, exhausted and lost in the spell.

She could tell immediately that he had just been waiting for her request, knowing that jumping into someone else's spell when they weren't ready could have deadly consequences for both parties.

She felt the rush, the release as Sam let some of his own power trickle through, coursing down the lines that connected them, and suddenly she was flying again, on the best drug in the world, and now she had it.

She could see the line.

"Lily!" She called, opening a small portion of her mind to the other girl, knowing Lily could see what she saw and still keep enough perspective to understand what it meant.

"I'm there." Lily said a second later, and in a heart beat, Ava dropped the spell, legs collapsing as she let it go.

The stars spun wildly, and she felt arms around her, but she was too numb to tell whose.

"She do this often?" A distant voice asked, Dean or Gabe, she didn't know, didn't care.

She was tired.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Gabe watched with a sense of...something, as Ava worked a spell the likes of which he honestly hadn't seen before.

That was the beautiful thing about human souls, their creativity and ingenuity. Angels had limitless time and nearly limitless power, but he couldn't think of a single one of his brothers or sisters who would have done a spell like this.

He could almost see it, what she was doing, the threads of connection between the demons, a spider web of pain and loss and memory and need.

He moved before he realized it when she started to collapse, and as he looked down at her in his arms, he had a moment to think that it was starting to get familiar.

"She do this often?" He asked Sam keenly, and the Boy King shot him a sharp look.

"She just worked a spell a knight of hell would have trouble pulling off." He stated calmly.

Sam started to reach for her, and Gabe's arms tensed before he realized it.

Sam looked at him shrewdly. "Jake will take care of her. She'll be fine once she's rested."

Gabe narrowed his eyes. "Seems like every time you call, she comes running. And somehow ends up like this..."

Sam's eyes flashed a warning, but before he could retort, Ava began to stir in Gabe's eyes.

"If you two are fighting...just...break my neck now..." She muttered.

"Easy, tiger." Gabe said, shifting her higher easily.

"Why is he holding me again?" She mumbled in Sam's direction, and Sam shot Gabe another warning look before answering.

"Because you aren't capable of normal, boring magic. Jake's going to take you and get you taken care of."

Gabe frowned even as she startled to struggle, shaking her head. "No, Sam. It's you they want. I can go. Jake and I and Lily. They can't capture all of us, but we'll be too good of a catch to pass up. Especially if Marcus or Rainier is there."

Sam's eyes darkened. "I'm not using you and Lily as bait for Marcus." He replied coldly, and Gabe's eyes shot to his face again.

She looked at him wearily. "It's just meat, Sam. But they have Max."

"I'm going to get him back, Ava." Sam said, touching a light finger to her forehead, and Gabe got the sense that they were communicating telepathically, but if they were, he couldn't hear it.

Whatever he said though, she finally nodded. "Alright." She said, a faraway look on her face that Gabe didn't care for at all.

Because it looked to him like Sam had just given her permission to hit the red button if things went south.

"I'm going with you." Dean broke in, startling Gabe, as he'd actually forgotten the man was there.

Sam glanced over dismissively. "Dean, you don't want to be anywhere near me and Lily for this, I assure you."

Dean's eyes hardened. "Like I told her. I go, or I hit reply all on an email with Calston on the subject line."

Sam straightened, smiling slowly after a moment. "So be it. You were warned. Time to see what the lions do when the zoo is closed."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Max looked around warily.

For just a moment, he could have sworn he felt...Ava.

He wasn't sure if that were possible. The cage he was in was tiny, and made of blessed iron, etched with runes and wards. The room that contained the cage was likewise decorated, which made the situation all the more confusing.

Because the people who had kidnapped him were just that, at least the ones he'd seen so far.

People.

Ordinary, human, un-possessed people.

That was why he hadn't sensed them until too late, he'd been looking for demons, or angels, not...people.

But though they were just people, and not very bright ones at that, from what he could tell, they'd hit him with all the right artillery in all the right places, chants, blessed iron, salt and holy water and a devil's trap for good measure.

And not just that, but they were strong weapons, the holy water obviously blessed by a priest who was actually spiritual, the chants said right, the wards and devil's trap drawn precisely, which was crucial to containing and concealing someone like Max.

Which meant that whoever was leading this group of morons was anything but human.

"Hello Max". The voice was unfamiliar, but the smirk and the cadence weren't, and Max snarled silently.

"Marcus..." He hissed. A hundred memories of a bloody and battered Lily and Ava swamped his mind, but he forced them down, knowing he had to be ready.

One way or the other, only one of them was leaving this building.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Okay, kiddos. I'm not sure exactly how many chapters away I am from this point, (7-10?) but coming up, sooner rather than later, I am going to completely screw over several parts of the canon story line. It's important, and it's going to allow me to bring in several characters my readers have expressed interest in seeing, so that's all well and fun.**

**And then I am going to write a chapter that might actually have some of you sending me hate mail. **

**This story has always been meant to take some of the characters to the very farthest edge of who they were in the show, and as intimidating as it is to write (please, don't hate my story!), there are certain actions that I am absolutely positive these characters, as I am currently writing them, would take. These characters don't always say their true reasoning out loud, as many of you have commented in your reviews, the characters have some very subtle traits that lead to certain actions. Sam, despite all his protestations, can't seem to not protect Dean. Dean, as much as he wants Sam back, still has doubts. Ava, Meg, Gabe, and all the others have underlying motivations that I may not state out loud, because the characters themselves may not even realize it.**

**So when some rather...drastic actions are taken, bear with me, and try to remember the characters deeper motivations.**

**We're gonna see just how far I can push this story, and all bets are off...**

**And just food for thought: We've already heard from Ava that she thought the infant special children were better off dead than in Hell, Sam's permission to do as she thought best could be taken as tacit agreement...**

**Sam now knows that a righteous man will have to be sent to hell, in order to break the first seal, as Lilith will not leave the safety of Hell until he does.**

**And there are only two known righteous men.**

**Now that I have freaked you all out, please remember, REVIEWS ARE LOVE! : )**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Sooooooooo not my sandbox. Nope. **

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Thirty-Two**

"**Mutual Mass Destruction"**

The three of them approached the rundown, ramshackle farm carefully.

Abandoned cars and farm equipment were scattered about the litter filled yard, and trees and shrubs grew haphazardly, the long grass hiding hidden pitfalls, broken glass, rusty pieces of metal, and in one place, what appeared to be a trip wire.

"What the hell?" Dean whispered, examining the trap carefully.

"Hunters." Lily said simply.

Dean looked at her like she was crazy. "Hunters?!"

She shook her head. "Not like you, Winchester. These crazy fucks hunt humans."

Dean gaped at her. "Are these some kind of demons?"

Sam stood silently as they hissed at each other. Now he spoke up.

"One of them is, now, at least. I can feel the warding from here. But most likely, they're using human lackeys. That makes the most sense, Max wouldn't have been expecting a human attack."

"Humans working with demons? Who the fuck would do that?" Dean grumbled.

Both Sam and Lily shot him a look, and he snapped his mouth shut, opening it up right away again to say "That's different..."

"Hmmm..." Lily agreed without really agreeing, eyes gone far away.

"Lily?" Sam asked after a moment and she looked over, and nodded. "Yes. I think so. The barn. The house is so heavily warded, I'm not sure he could be in there, not without dying, and Ava said he was still alive."

"He is." Sam agreed, ice in his voice, and Dean shivered.

Sam turned to Dean, holding out a dagger, hilt first. "Keep this on you. It kills demons. Not just the vessel, if you get a kill shot in, the demon actually dies."

"That's a neat trick." Dean muttered, tucking it into the small of his back.

"You have no idea." Lily rejoined. Sam offered her a smaller, bright silver blade, but she shook her head.

"I got this." She said, holding up one hand, waving a few fingers gracefully.

Dean saw crackles of black...light, or maybe energy was a better word, jumping back and forth between her fingers.

"What the hell?" He said again, feeling like a broken record.

"Dean. Don't touch Lily. It will...hurt." Sam said with a pause that had Dean fairly certain that the word 'hurt' was a serious understatement.

"What's the plan?" Dean asked.

"Kill everything." Sam said simply, and when Dean turned to look at him, he met his eyes squarely.

"I don't like my belongings being taken." He replied coldly. "Everyone in that house but Max is a dead man walking. Feel free to stay here."

With that, Sam and Lily started forward, towards the barn.

With a deep breath, Dean followed.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Gordon slammed down his bottle of whiskey. "I'm telling you, she-bitch. I'm ready. You can take your training and shove it up your-"

With a shriek of power, the whiskey bottle exploding, raining whiskey and broken glass all over the Gordon and the rest of the room.

"Stop. Calling. Me. Bitch!" Ruby growled, stalking towards him. "I'm trying to keep you alive you stubborn, pig-headed pile of shit!"

He gaped at her, but she continued with her tirade. "Do you even realize how many times I've saved your ass, Gordon? Your being hunted, and you don't even know it. You're playing with werewolves and vampires, while the things that give intelligent demons nightmares are coming for you. My magic is the only thing shielding you."

Gordon sputtered. "I never agreed to that, and I sure as hell never asked you to."

She rolled her eyes. "Did you really want to be caught by surprise by a posse of demons when you were in the middle of beheading a nest of vampires? A few weeks ago, I had to save your ass because you couldn't even handle three vampires at once. If we're going to do this, it has to be on our terms. We have to be the ones to take them by surprise. And we have to be ready, you have to be ready."

Gordon Scoffed. "I am ready, bi-Ruby. But you're the one who can't find them. How am I suppose to catch them by surprise if you, with all your magic and hoodoo, can't even find them?"

She pressed her lips together in annoyance. "Fine. It just so happens that I've had a little breakthrough on that front. I may not be able to find either Winchester, but I've located someone who's been working with them. A woman named Bela Talbot. Talbot sold her soul in a demon deal years ago, and now she's working with Lilith and Sam. My spells may not be able to track the Winchesters, but they can track her. She's a sneaky bitch, but I've finally got a lock on her."

"Good." Gordon said with satisfaction. "Then we just have to wait for her to meet up with Sam Winchester, and then I'll get righteous on his sorry ass."

"We'll see..." Ruby said, turning away so Gordon wouldn't see her triumphant smile.

They always say fools rush in...

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

The three entered the barn carefully, Sam first, and Dean felt the urge to remind him that little brothers let big brothers take point, but he squashed it down fiercely, because this Sam was obviously in no mood to be screwed with at the moment.

The very air around Sam was cold, though he radiated fury, the picture perfect example of hell freezing over.

After a moment, Sam nodded lightly, and Lily slunk forward, lightly, like a cat, followed by Dean.

The barn wasn't really a barn inside, the stalls having been obviously ripped out years ago, and replaced with...cages.

Dean began to understand just what Lily had meant when she called the people in the house 'hunters', and it reminded him once again of just who Sam and the other kids had grown up around while trapped in Hell.

Sick fucks like this who hunted people for some obscene reason.

Just who you wanted your kid brother hanging out with.

"Max!" Lily hissed, as Dean began swinging his flashlight around. Lily and Sam didn't seem to require extra light to help them see, and that was a creepy little tidbit Dean tried not to think about at all.

"Max!" Lily said again, but this time the alarm in her voice had the other two men moving forward to the far corner where she had crouched down.

There, in the farthest cage, was a beaten, bloody, unconscious Max. The cage he was in had crudely drawn wards and sigils carved into the iron, and Max was shivering, wet and dusted with fine white crystals that Dean realized were salt.

Salt and holy water might not stop an arch demon, even a living one, but Dean bet they didn't feel good either.

Lily was hissing in low fury at the sight, but when she went to put her hands on the cage, Sam drew her back.

"Don't." He warned.

Her fingers twitched anxiously as she looked back and forth from Sam to Max, but she nodded.

Sam reached out with one cautious hand, brushing his fingers down the iron. Immediately, the metal began to glow and steam, and an angry hissing sound could be heard.

"Dean?" Sam said, looking over to his brother with a raised brow.

Dean swallowed but nodded. The metal didn't react to his touch, it was simply cold hard metal under his hands, but neither could he get the cage open.

"Lily, search for the key." Sam commanded, and with a nod, the blond moved off, quickly and efficiently ransacking the room as silently as a ghost.

"Max." Sam said the word in a low, commanding voice, and when he did, he obviously used some kind of mental power, because the hairs on Dean's arms stood up, even as Max finally shifted, starting to register their presence.

"Sam..." He mumbled. "It's...Marcus. Kill...fucker."

Dean's eyebrows rose at that, but Sam was simply nodding. "I know, Max. He went after Anselm too, but he didn't have back up that time, and Anselm got away. We're going to get you out, and then you can kill him, okay?"

Sam's voice was patient, as if he were convincing a two year old at the doctor's office to get their shot in exchange for going out for ice cream, and Dean had to shake his head at the mental image.

"They're just...human."Max said, struggling to sit up without burning himself against the metal of the cage. "Except for the one possessed by Marcus. The others are just...human." He sounded slightly bewildered.

Sam nodded. "Where do you think our playmates downstairs came from?" He reassured Max with a dark smile. He turned to Dean.

"The doorway to the house is warded with the same spell-work as this cage. It's too much for Lily to overcome, and I don't want to leave Max trapped without back up. Can you go and lock for the key? Judging by the lock mechanism, it would look squarish, with three prongs at the end."

Dean looked at Sam, searching his features, trying to judge if Sam genuinely needed his help or just wanted him out of the way.

"Both." Sam said, as if reading Dean's mind. Dean's eyes widened, and Sam smirked. "It's hard not too, sometimes, when you're only a couple of inches away from me. The wards won't stop me, but they'll weaken me. Whatever demon is running this operation is wearing something, an amulet of some sort, that has a counter spell cast on it to negate the wards effects. Without an amulet of my own, going in there for me is like walking on a planet with double gravity. And, I'm about to help Max in a way that's going to make you very...uncomfortable." He added, raising his own silver dagger, holding it too his palm.

With a jolt, Dean realized Sam meant he was going to give the wounded and weakened Max some of his own blood.

Since the night of Ava's confession, the fact that Sam and the other kids drank blood to survive was the one thing Dean couldn't bear to think about, not without wanting to scream, but now here it was, staring him in the face.

"This is how he get's strong enough to get out of here, alive." Lily said, coming up behind Dean, and he tensed, forcing down the instinct to lash out.

He looked at his brother, remembering the trickster's words.

_'You wanted proof of Sam's humanity. Well, they're it.'_

"Okay." He said, forcing down his unease. "You do...what you have to do. I'll get the key, and then you guys can play bloody knuckles with the asshole causing all the problems."

Sam grinned ferally at Dean's choice of words. "Go. I'll be finished by the time you're back."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Ava woke slowly, head pounding. Sitting up, she looked around, not recognizing her surroundings.

Jake looked up from the map he was studying. "Took you long enough." He commented idly.

She flipped him the bird. "We get Max back?" She questioned tiredly.

She needed to feed, but the unfamiliar surroundings told her that Sam had moved their safe house as a precaution, so they probably didn't have any blood.

Jake cocked his head at her. "Sam and Lily went a few hours ago. Once you're up, we're heading west. It's your turn to hunt some vampires, little sister."

Ava nodded again, feeling a little like a rag doll. Magic topside was different than in Hell, and her legs still felt rubbery.

"Here." Jake said, reaching in his jacket a pulling out a flask. "It's old, and only half's left, but I couldn't exactly go shopping while you were asleep."

She nodded yet again, wrinkling her nose at the scent of the old blood in the flask, rancid and rank, but she had little choice, not unless she wanted to be bedridden for a week.

Just as she was about to take a drink, Gabe appeared, an unreadable expression on his face. "Here." He said curtly, tossing her a bottle of...blood?

"Oh, now I'm confused..." She said. "Did you just..?" She trailed off, trying to wrap her mind around the arch angel catching a demon and bleeding it.

And then bringing it to her.

Something about this picture was really, really wrong.

"Don't." He warned lowly, and she dropped the subject, out loud, anyway, too tired and worn out to argue.

The blood was fresh, and there was enough to get her upright again. She wasn't as bad off as she had been before, her stamina was growing in leaps and bounds, but it seemed like their cause was always requiring her to push her magic one step further.

So be it.

Like she had said earlier, no one wins the game of life anyway.

"Give me an hour." She told Jake, needing to give the blood some time to work through her system. The immediate symptoms, the headaches, the shakes, were already fading, but her strength needed a little more time.

Casting one more wary glance at the arch angel, she went the the stair case that led to the roof. She and Sam shared the need to be up high at times, so she was sure there was an exit, and sure enough, she found a door that led to the apartment's roof.

Walking over to the ledge, she breathed deeply, trying to calm her nerves as her brain finally had time to process what Sam had told her psychically before he had left.

It had been a bold move, and a frightening one, a move that showed that Sam realized how bad the rescue mission for Max could go.

Sam had told her a secret.

Sam had told her _the_ secret, the secret he had promised Eve to enact, if it looked like the arch demons would lose the war.

He'd told her how to free Eve, the mother of monsters.

Eve had been happy with the status quo, all these years, even locked away in purgatory. Eve was a mother, and she understood balance. Her monsters hunted humans, and the human hunters fought back.

That was how it should work.

But if the angels had their way, the final battle that would destroy half the planet would ruin Eve's precious balance, so when she had helped Sam plot their escape, she had made Sam promise, that if he couldn't stop the coming war, he'd free her, so she could rally her own children to fight back.

It was madness, the idea of freeing Eve, even to combat the angels, but that had been the price of Eve's assistance in escaping, so Sam had promised.

And now, should something ever happen to Sam, it would fall to Ava to fulfill that promise.

Mutual Mass Destruction.

"What frightens an arch demon?" An angry voice said from behind her, and she turned to look at Gabe.

"Nothing." She answered.

"_Liar_. You're frightened right now. You weren't frightened when you were fighting that ghost, you weren't frightened when you were working that spell that almost fried your brain. But Sam told you something, when he touched you. He said something that frightened you. So what frightens a little girl who grew up in Hell?" Gabe questioned.

She cocked her head at him. "You're angry. Why?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't begin to explain it to you, Ava. Everything that's wrong with this picture."

The way his thoughts echoed her own made her laugh humorlessly. "Trust me, no one knows more than me, wings."

"What did he tell you, Ava. What scared you so bad even I could see it?" Gabe said, coming closer.

She looked at him solemnly, knowing she couldn't tell him the truth, he'd undoubtedly try and stop her should she ever have to implement the plan.

"Something far older than angels." She finally replied.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Actually, nothing clever to say today. Enjoy reading.**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Thirty-Three**

"**Brave New World"**

Dean swam up from the depths of unconsciousness slowly. His head was pounding, and he could feel a trickle of blood sliding slowly done one side of his face.

He raised his head, blinking against the light assaulting his screaming senses, and then reared back quickly from the knife being held only scant inches from his left eye.

"Holy shit..." He breathed, as memory came back to him in one fell rush.

It had been a little girl, some horrible rag-doll version of a little girl, anyway. She'd startled him, and when he'd tried to speak to her, she'd attacked him. Dean had been unprepared to hurt her, and she'd used that to her advantage, if the pain in his head proved anything.

And now, she was standing in front of him, feral as a wild cat, twirling a dagger back and forth in her fingers.

Two inches from Dean's face.

Voices sounded from outside the room, and then three others came in, men, fully grown. Two appeared to be in their twenties, and Dean guessed the older to be in his fifties.

The father of this sick little clan, perhaps.

Then Dean saw the father's eyes flicker black for a bare second, and he realized that daddy dearest wasn't alone in his body. He'd wondered for a moment whether or not the devil child who'd attacked him had been the one possessed, but apparently every precious bit of her was human.

The joy.

"Good work, Missy. Look what you've caught..." The older man said in a rough, gravelly voice, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth.

The girl skipped over to him, practically purring as she leaned against the demon, eyes never leaving Dean, and he felt a little like an ant under a magnifying glass.

"Let's just see what we have here..." The demon said, moving away from the others and crouching before him.

"Just what human would the Boy King send to do his dirty work, hmm?" The demon, who Dean was guessing was the Marcus Sam and Max had spoken of, murmured as he tilted Dean's chin up.

"Green eyes. Well, I'll be. What a pretty little present you'll make for my boss, Dean Winchester..." Marcus said lowly, with a dark grin.

Standing up again, the demon hid behind his human vessel's face as he addressed the man's sons. "Beau, Lenny, this one won't have come alone."

"I came by myself. Sam said the one you caught was a lost cause." Dean interjected, trying to distract them from going searching for Sam and Lily.

Marcus laughed. "Nice try, Winchester, but everyone knows, Sam doesn't leave one of his own behind. If you're here, and Max is here, then Sam is here, somewhere. Boys, get too it. Take the shot guns with the special bullets, just like a told you. Kill anything that moves."

"But you need Sam!" Dean said, frightened into speaking by the demon's actions. He'd gotten the sense that while Sam was a thorn in Azazel's side, the yellow-eyed demon still required Sam and the others to accomplish certain tasks a normal demon couldn't.

"That's where your wrong, Winchester. We only need the one. Sam would never have brought all the others with him. At least some of them are still in the wind. Azazel had decided Sam's more trouble than he's worth." Turning back the the brothers he said "Though I take it back, if one of them is a girl, just shoot her in the leg and bring her too me."

The men grinned nastily at each other, and started out of the room.

"If you hurt my brother, I'll kill you all myself!" Dean screamed, suddenly furious, straining against his bonds.

Marcus laughed. "I would very much like to see you try."

Dean snarled at him. "Undo these ropes, and I'll oblige you!" He made sure to look like he was still straining, still fighting, but his previous movement had accomplished it's goal, camouflaging his hands as he moved the knife Sam had given him into place to start sawing the rope.

"Really, though. I am having too much fun with all this. Did you know, Dean, that these freaks actually hunted other humans even before I came around? I just improved their technique, and stepped up their game a little. The rest was all them." Marcus was gloating, and as he turned back to face Dean, Dean caught the glint of light off the amulet Marcus wore around his neck.

Dean focused on that, remembering Sam's wounds about a counter spell.

Just then, two gun shots resounded from the bar, and Dean felt his stomach drop, a wave of cold fear washing over him.

"Sam..." He breathed out.

Marcus laughed again, and Dean took advantage of the moment, lunging forward with the blade, swinging for the demon's neck.

Marcus jumped back in time to prevent his vessel's throat from being slashed, but his amulet wasn't so lucky, and as it fell to the ground, cord neatly severed, the demon immediately started smoking out of the vessel.

Dean lunged again, burying the blade in the man's chest as the Missy shrieked her fear and fury, but the demon escaped.

The father's body slumped to the ground, and Dean pivoted, expecting another vicious attack from Missy, but she was already running away, out the front door like a banshee.

Dean stood there, chest heaving while he stared at the body on the floor below him. He normally wouldn't consider the death of a possessed person a victory, but perhaps in the case of this sick fuck, it didn't have to count as a loss either.

Suddenly, he looked up as another gun shot went off in the barn. Grabbing up the amulet, he took off towards the barn.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam looked up just as he was removing his still bleeding wrist carefully from between the bars of Max's cage.

Lily was standing above him, every muscle tense as a bird waiting to take flight.

She looked down at Sam, nodding her confirmation of his suspicions.

Someone was coming.

'_Hide' _He sent her the command mentally, glad that she was one of his more receptive siblings. He;d fed before he came, knowing Max might need his own blood, which had turned out to be the case. He still had power, he was no where near exhausted, but having shared his own blood with his brother meant he now needed to ration his power, since he wasn't sure when he'd be able to refuel.

Lily nodded, moving gracefully toward a tower of hay bales. Sam himself simply stepped into the deeper shadows, drawing his blade. He had no intention of hiding, but it would be better to split up whoever came through that door.

A second later, two men, if you could call such poor specimens of humanity that, came through the door, shot guns in hand, and Sam's eyes narrowed as he caught the scent in the air of iron and ozone.

They had consecrated iron bullets in those guns.

Wasn't that...interesting.

Consecrated iron rounds certainly weren't enough to destroy an arch demon, but they were definitely enough to re-classify a living arch demon...to the full arch demon category.

By way of a first class ticket to Hell.

As Sam predicted, the two men split up, one going towards the corner where Lily had hid, the other moving towards Max's cage. Sam waited, like a spider, until the man turned his back on the shadows where Sam was hiding. The man was taking aim, intending on shooting Max in his cage like an animal, like shooting into a barrel of fist, and Sam's lips curled in hatred and disgust at the man's cowardice.

Spring forward, he swung the blade with deadly precision, slamming the dagger into the man's back, at the top of his spine, where his neck met his shoulders, severing his spinal cord. At the same time, he jerked back on the mans shoulders with his other hand, so that when the man's fingers closed on the trigger reflexively, the shots went wide, up and out and far from Max.

A moment later, Sam head a scuffle and another shot, then a strangled scream. Max and Sam grinned at each other, looking over to where Lily was now emerging from the shadows, dark energy still sparking at her fingertips, a half grin dancing on her lips.

A sound from the door way alerted Sam to Dean's presence, and he met his brother's wide eyes. Dean was looking rapidly back and forth from the bloody body at Sam's feet to Lily and her strange, enigmatic grin.

"Did you find it?" Sam asked tersely, forcing down his own unease at the alarmed look in Dean's eyes. He'd warned his brother. Dean had known every person here would die, either at Sam's hands, or Max and Lily's.

Dean swallowed hard, nodding silently as he tossed an electronic key to Sam.

Sam caught it easily, bending down to insert it in Max's cage, but just as he did so, the door to the barn blew inward, bits of wood and metal showering the barns occupants.

Sam stood again gracefully, stepping forward to shield Max even as he tossed the key to Lily. He could sense her moving behind him, but he never took his eyes off the newcomer.

"Marcus. You always were something of a showman." Sam sneered.

From behind the insane eyes of Missy Bender, Marcus grinned back.

"It's been too long, Boy King. And look, you've brought one of my favorite playmates with you. Hello Lily. Long time, no see."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Andy paced back and forth restlessly. "And your sure? Absolutely sure that the last journal is there?" He asked.

Bela's voice sounded back, tinny and faint across the bad cell connection. "I'm positive. Or, at least, positive that John Winchester was the man who bought the last journal at auction eleven years ago. It took me days to work back through the fake aliases and paper trails, but, yes. I'm sure. It might not be in the storage unit in Muncy, but he doesn't have any other long term storage that I can locate. This is the best shot. Do I go in?"

Andy closed his eyes, thinking. "No. At least, not you. Lilith still holds your contract. If you died, you're headed south and there won't be anything anyone, even Sam can do about it. What about these contacts you have, can they be trusted?"

She snorted. "I'm paying them in beer, what do you think? But yes, they should be sufficient. All we need is in the unit."

"Sam needs in the unit." Andy corrected. "What we need is a reason for Dean to take him there."

"What if it's John that shows up?" She asked.

"It's won't be. John's gone dark, he'll suspect it's a trap. But my guess is, he has too many sensitive items to ignore it. Best bet is, he'll send Dean. That's Sam's window of opportunity."

"So, go ahead with the plan?" She asked.

"No. Not till I get Sam's go ahead. But be ready to move as soon as I get his okay."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam braced himself, legs planted firmly, dagger in hand as he smirked at Marcus.

He felt Lily and Max bracket him on either side, and Dean was on Lily's other side.

"Let's play..." He said lowly, and through out his arm.

Marcus did too, the two demon's power negating one another, but that was okay, because it gave Max the opportunity Sam wanted.

With a flick of his own hand, Max attacked from the side, catching the surprised Marcus unaware.

Marcus flew, back and two the right, impaling on a jagged spike of metal left of from the earlier explosion. As Sam added his power to Max's, holding the demon trapped like a butterfly on a pin, Lily started chanting the reverse exorcism.

As her words wound off, Marcuse snarled at them. Blood was trickling from Missy Bender's mouth, her voice low and guttural as she shaped her throat around Marcus's words.

"You can't stop me. I can heal this body. I'm a real demon, I don't need to refuel." He said.

Lily smiled as Sam nodded her forward, Max and Sam backing up a step, Max dragging Dean back with them.

"What a coincident. Neither do I. At least, not for a little bit." She replied, as the black energy jumping from her fingers began to grow and change, like a living breathing storm, black and yellow and electric and alive.

"Sam, wait, he's in Missy's body, she's just a kid..." Dean was yelling.

Sam shot him a deadly look. "So was Lily. So was Ava. We're fighting a war, and buried in that little monster's body is one of the enemies lieutenants."

Dean was shaking his head. "This isn't right. We can find another way."

Sam looked at him darkly. "War is never about being right. It's about being the ones left. You were warned, Dean. It's time you learned. There aren't any happy endings to be found here. We are the things the monsters fear. And now, you'll see why. Do it, Lily."

She smiled serenely, the energy forming around her hands now enough to create a wind of it's own, lifting her hair back as she placed both hands firmly on the shrieking demon.

Sam met Dean's eyes. "It's a brave new world, brother."


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: So, what I love, love, love about writing is how it sort of...grows. I had no idea this conversation was going to occur between John and Dean, but I love every damn word. I had no idea Dean's character was going to evolve so quickly. There are still several crises of faith in store for him, but his character had a lot to say, and he decided tonight was the night!**

**Sorry for the slow updates, I took a mini-hiatus and caught up on Once Upon A Time. Unfortunately, I have a great deal of trouble living in both The Enchanted Forest and the Impala at the same time, so I then needed a few days to get back into the swing of my Supernatural stories.**

**Prisoner of War is set to update tomorrow, and How to Fix a Winchester with update on Friday. An update to Tuesday's Child might sneak in there somewhere, but I'm wavering between two different plot options for the next chapter of that story, and until the plot bunny in my mind decides which way to go, I'm stuck.**

**The ATPM update after this will have more action, like I said, John sort of surprised me with the phone call, and then it turned out Dean had rather a lot to say, so I let him.**

**Reviews are love...**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Thirty Four**

"**Dark Heart Of The Matter"**

Dean stalked angrily up to Sam. They were standing on the outskirts of the Bender's farm. Dean didn't even know how his car had come to be there, and frankly, he didn't give a damn about that right now.

He had a bone to pick with his brother.

"Yes. Tell her to go ahead." Sam said into his phone, as he glanced over at Dean. "Andy, I have to go."

"You let them kill that little girl!" Dean snarled, fists clenched by his sides.

Sam appraised him coolly, putting his phone away in his pocket as casually as if he were simply waiting for the bus. "Yes. I did. And if Lily hadn't killed her, or Max, then I would have."

"She was a CHILD!" Dean screamed, furious, images of Missy Bender's lifeless eyes flashing through his mind..

Suddenly, Dean found himself pinned to a tree, Sam easily holding him there with only one hand.

He spoke clearly and coldly, each word as precise and surgical as a knife cut.

"She was a _monster_. Take it from me, Dean. Even before Marcus crawled his way inside her. She was a monster, raised by monsters. There was no salvation for her, Dean." Sam slammed him lightly against the tree trunk for good measure before dropping him like a rag doll, and walking a few feet away, cold fury emanating from him.

"And even if she hadn't been, we would have done the same thing. Marcus is too dangerous to allow free. What you saw in there, Dean? Those cages? If the demons win, the only humans left free will be ones like that, feral, _rabid_. And the demon inside that piece of meat that you called a little girl? He was one of the worst. He killed and tortured for the hell of it. Not because he needed to, not to achieve something. He didn't do it for power or status or information. Marcus liked pretty things, Dean. He liked to _break them_, while Azazel and Rainier watched. He was a stain, and now, he's gone."

"So's the girl." Dean said raggedly, pushing himself to his feet.

"There was nothing in her worth keeping anyway. You know that as well as I do, Dean. You just haven't

accepted it, yet. You're still too caught up in your broke-down fairy tale ideas of right and wrong. I knew you weren't..." Sam swallowed angrily, turning to the other two arch demons as they approached.

"You two, go on. Hole up for a few days, then I'll contact you." He ordered, and Max and Lily nodded, disappearing into the night like so much smoke.

"You knew I wasn't what, Sam? What am I not?" Dean asked, facing his brother squarely.

Sam looked over at him, an unreadable expression on his face. "You're not ready, not for what needs to be done. For what I'll have to do to win this war. Maybe you'll never be. But I _am_ fighting a war, and those other demons want me and the others. I will not allow that to happen. I warned you that everyone in there died tonight, and you didn't listen. So..." Sam started to walk away.

"So, what!" Dean said, a knot of fury and fear and worry growing in his stomach. He was furious at Sam for allowing Missy Bender to be killed, and terrified of what it meant for his brother.

Sam pressed his lips together, shaking his head. " I don't have any pretty answers for you, Dean. They took Max. They tortured him. And now they're dead. That's how it works. That's how _I_ work. The world is ugly, and it's going to get worse. Do what John said. Stay out, and stay away."

"You can't just tell me to stay out of it, this is my damn family we're talking about." Dean insisted, refusing to be intimidated by Sam, demon powers or no.

"Yes. And your mother is dead, your father is missing, and your brother is a monster." Sam said with a cool voice.

"You're not a monster." Dean replied instantly.

Sam laughed. "Don't you see, you don't get to have it both ways, Dean. Am I a monster, or am I just a victim?"

"Maybe you're both." Dean said lowly.

Suddenly, Sam snarled at Dean. "I am no victim, and I will not lose, whatever it takes. Heaven and Hell turned against me, Dean. I thought you might be...different."

"I am different, I'M YOUR BROTHER!" Dean screamed, helpless fury coursing through his body once again.

He didn't know what to make of Sam. Once moment, he was saving a little girl from a burning house, and in the next, he was killing one.

Was Sam buried inside the monster, or the monster buried inside Sam?

Sam seemed to have his own opinion on the matter. "And I'm a demon, Dean. A monster. Either accept that, or stay away." In a flash, Sam vanished.

Dean stood, panting as he looked around the now empty clearing. He felt sick to the stomach, Missy Bender's screams still echoing in his ears...

And yet.

Dean was almost frightened by how easily he could push those screams down, if he really wanted to. If he allowed himself to wonder, to think about what the demon inside that little girl had done to Lily and Ava...and, undoubtedly, to Sam.

At nineteen, Dean would have happily ripped the lungs out of anyone who'd touched his fifteen year old brother.

Sam could talk about wars and lieutenants all he wanted, but Dean had heard the very first thing he had said, when Dean had protested, back at the barn. When he'd said that Missy Bender was just a child, and Sam had replied-

"So was Lily."

And really, wasn't that the crux of the problem? Had Sam really acted any different than Dean would have, minus the demon powers? Wouldn't Dean have cheerfully killed someone who'd hurt Sam?

Hell, he wanted to right now.

Gabe had warned that the other arch demons were Sam's link to humanity, but Dean knew better than anyone that humanity didn't always mean sweetness and light.

Humanity had a dark, desperate, vengeful side, also.

Just look at John.

"Christ, Sam." Dean whispered brokenly.

Sometimes he wondered who the monsters really were, anymore.

The demons were just lost children, and the angels were the bad guys, and Dean's own father had known his little brother was trapped in hell and left him there.

Maybe they were all monsters...

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Gordon watched, curious despite himself, as Ruby did the tracking spell.

She had a map laid out, and appeared to be using a pendulum of some sort.

"What is that made out of?" He finally asked, suspicious.

She looked over at him, lips curving with a dark amusement. "You really, really don't want to know."

"Well, what the hell does it say?" He demanded crossly.

He was sick of Ruby's bullshit and lies and tall tales. He was ready for some real action. He'd show Sam Winchester just what the Hell righteous really meant.

The pendulum stopped swinging, instead beginning to move in tighter and tighter circles. Gordon had seen enough witchcraft worked to know that meant it had found whatever Ruby had been using to track the Talbot girl. Gordon was sickened by the idea of anyone volunteering to work with a demon.

He had no choice, the fate of the entire world was at stake, but this Bela Talbot had made a demon deal when she was only a teenager, according to Ruby, and as far as Gordon was concerned, that made her even lower than the demons she was helping.

Hopefully she would be part of the collateral damage on this particular job.

"Got the bitch." Ruby said in satisfaction, as the pendulum went still, chain taunt and rigid.

"Well, where are we going?" Gordon demanded.

She looked over at him, one dark brow arched. "Muncy, Indiana."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Dean rolled over tiredly as his phone rang, the sound shrill in the silence of his hotel room. He glanced at the caller idea, sitting up suddenly as he recognized the number as being from one of his father's throwaways.

Dean had thought John had decommissioned that number months ago.

"Hello?" He said cautiously, reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp.

"Dean." The voice at the other end of the line was rough and scratchy, whether from lack of sleep or lack of use, Dean couldn't tell.

"Dad?" Dean asked, heart pounding. "Is that you?"

"Are you alone?" John asked quickly.

Dean swallowed, feeling a wave of fury sweep through him. "You mean, is Sam with me? No. I don't know where he is. For all I know, he could be stuck in Hell again by now, why don't you tell me?"

There was a weighted pause at the other end of the line, and then John's hesitant reply. "You know...everything, I take it. Who told you, Missouri?"

Dean laughed bitterly. "Oh, I know everything. Missouri just confirmed what I heard from Ava. She was stuck in Hell all those years with Sammy, but I guess you already knew that, didn't you, Dad. Knew that Sammy was in Hell, being tortured, being...god, Dad, they turned him into a monster. Time's not the same there, Dad, did you know that? He wasn't there for seven years, he was there for almost a thousand. _Sammy, Dad. In Hell_."

Dean choked down his furious sobs, determined to hear what John had to say for himself.

John sighed deeply. "I really didn't know, Dean. Not at first. Not until it was too late. And once I did, there was nothing I could do. I didn't have a way to break into Hell and get him out. Besides, like you said, time's not the same there. Our Sam was dead a long time ago."

"You didn't know that, not for sure." Dean hissed. "You couldn't. You gave up on him, and you tried to get me to, too. You were just going to leave your son in Hell."

"There was no point in you knowing, Dean. There was nothing you could do. Sam was lost to us. The only thing left was to move forward, to find and kill the monsters that destroyed our family." John retorted desperately.

"I had a right to know, to decide for myself. And Sam wasn't lost, he's not lost. He's saved my life more times in the past few weeks than you have in the last few years!" Dean cried, getting up off the motel bed and pacing as his agitation coursed through his body.

This time, John's reply was frosty. "I see that thing wearing your brother's face has got it's claws into you. You can't trust him, Dean. It might look like Sam, but Sam, _our Sam_ died that day in the library. You can't try to see the good in this...person with his name. He's not your brother, Dean. You have to trust me."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, about that. There's a little problem. I trust you right now about as much as you trusted me all these years. And say what you want about Sam, but I haven't caught him in a single lie, yet."

"Dean, you should know by now, Demons lie when it suits them. They'll have no problem telling the truth if the truth is painful enough to accomplish their goals. He's using you, and your love for Sam, for his own purposes. He's trying to draw you in, Dean." John stated authoritatively.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, well, that's where you're wrong. I'm the one seeking them out, Dad. They only show up when I'm about to get my ass handed to me. Every chance he gets, Sam tells me to get the hell out of dodge. He doesn't try and tell me _you_ can't be trusted, or that _you're_ telling lies about _him_."

"What...does he say about me." John asked, a tone of reluctance in his voice.

"About you? Not a damn thing. He had a nice chat with Mom, though." Dean said angrily. He was hurt, and he wanted to spread the pain a little.

"What?" John said, voice shaking.

Dean suddenly wished he had kept his mouth shut.

"We were in Lawrence, at our old house. A poltergeist was targeting the family that lives there now. Sam saved them, Dad. And then it went after him. And then..." Dean hesitated now.

As angry and hurt as he was, he couldn't continue to use their mother as a weapon against John.

"Then what?" John demanded.

"Mom showed up. Her ghost, or her...spirit. She said...some things. She asked Sam for forgiveness, and then she took the damn poltergeist out. She protected him, Dad. Why would she do that, if she didn't think he was still Sam?"

"What..." John cleared his throat. "What did he say, when she asked for forgiveness?"

Dean hesitated again, but decided he owed John the honesty that John had withheld from Dean. "That's the thing, Dad. She asked him if he could forgive her, but Sam said he couldn't. Not because he didn't want to, but simply because he wasn't able to forgive. But he told her he'd end it. End the ones who did all this. At the time, I thought it was because he'd gone to Hell that he couldn't forgive, could only think about revenge. But the more I think about it, the more I think it's the other way around. I don't think Sam got that from Hell, Dad. I think he got that from you."

"How can you say that, Dean?" John said furiously.

Frankly, Dean was surprised John hadn't already hung up the phone on him. "Because it's the truth. Do you have any idea what happened to them? What they did? What they made Sam do?"

"Sam's choices were his own." John replied instantly.

"Christ, Dad." Dean choked out, stunned that his father could be so cold.

"They threatened the other kids, Dad. The ones who went missing the same day. They held their lives over Sam's head until he did what they wanted. Hell didn't teach him to do that, Dad. We did. We taught him that the hunt was important, that saving innocent lives was the goal. He was trapped in an impossible situation, and you know what he did? He did what you said couldn't be done. He saved himself, and six others. Sam got them out, Dad. And now they're some kind of crazy...family, and it's all on us. We taught him to save lives, we taught him that family was all important, and we taught him vengeance. Everything he's done has just been...it's been what we taught him. Hell didn't make him that way. _We did_. No, he's not the same, but you can't say the darkness in him is Hell. It's not."

Dean took a deep, ragged breath. "It's us."


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: So, once again, a chapter in this story has taken a close look at my carefully wrote outline, laughed, and done what it wanted to anyway.**

**Apparently, Lily and Max needed to hash out some drama, and moving the plot forward had to wait.**

**That's okay, I love them too, and we hadn't heard from them in a while. It's had to give out equal amounts of screen time when you have so many characters.**

**So, my NaNo encouragement for this chapter for all of you is from Pinterest, no author was included, feel free to let me know if you know it and I will adjust accordingly.-**

"**Write until it becomes as natural as breathing. Write until not writing makes you anxious."**

**Reviews are love, and best wishes to everyone gearing up for NaNoWriMo!**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox.**

**All The Pretty Monsters – Chapter Thirty Five**

"**We All Fall Down"**

Bela picked up her throwaway cell phone, dialing the necessary numbers with deft precision.

"Gentlemen, did you acquire the merchandise?" She asked.

They wouldn't have, of course. She had purposefully given them a a description of an item so ludicrous that it couldn't possibly exist. A turquoise stone with four red dots on it, inside a green glass bottle, stoppered with a red hawk feather.

She had had to explain what color turquoise was, God help her.

But her true ends would have been achieved. There was no way John Winchester would not have implemented some kind of surveillance on his storage unit, and now that it had been breached, he would send someone to investigate.

Sam was betting that someone would be his brother Dean.

That would allow Sam access to the storage unit to look for their true goal, the last remaining journal of Samuel Colt.

"Well, about that, Lady..." The man began on the other end of the line.

She rolled her eyes. "I take it you failed? You are aware that you aren't paid unless you provide the merchandise you were sent to retrieve."

"Now, wait just a damn minute, lady. I don't know what kind of man that place belonged to, but it was full of all kinds of crazy shit. Bones and chests and boxes and books. I'm talking all kinds of crazy, but that's not the half of it. He had some kind of booby trap rigged up, with a friggin' shot gun full of rock salt. Tore Joe's shoulder all up."

"I'm afraid that's your own problem, gentlemen. I hired you under the impression that you were capable professionals, but obviously, I was misled. Good day." She smiled as she disconnected.

They had assumed John would have at least a few little tricks set up at his storage shed, and now she was even more glad Sam had insisted she use outside players.

Now, if he could just locate the damn journal, maybe their plan to stop that Hell-Bitch who held her contract.

She dialed a second number, one she had memorized, unwilling to program it in her phone for fear of discovery.

"It's Bela. It's done. I'd start making your way to Muncy."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean studied the storage unit in front of him with a sense of mild incredulity. He'd known intellectually, that John had to stash the object's he collected somewhere, at least until he could destroy them, but he'd never expected it would be someplace as mundane as Frank's 24-Hour Secure Storage.

Also, from just what Dean could see from the doorway, John hadn't been doing a whole lot of destroying in the past couple of years. The place looked like a supernatural arsenal, which was confusing as hell to Dean, because John had always stressed to him and Sam that the job wasn't finished until the danger was disabled. That meant finding whatever means were necessary, be it fire, holy water, or hoodoo spell it would take to destroy the cursed object.

Had John simply been to busy to take the time to do that vital last step? Or had he been saving these things on purpose?

Had he intended on using these things as weapons, using them to battle Azazel perhaps?

Dean had almost been amused by the time his and John's conversation the night before had finally segued to the original reason John had called Dean.

He'd needed a damn errand boy.

Someone had tripped the surveillance sensors in John's long term storage, and John's mission, being at a critical point (naturally), was to vital for John to follow up on the breach.

So he sent his good little soldier instead.

But now, looking at the dangerous items in front of him, Dean realized just how bad this could be, if something was taken.

He took a cautious step forward, and then another, knowing John was unlikely to have left the unit unprotected. John hadn't mentioned any booby traps to him, but then again, he'd probably expect Dean to handle anything like that on his own anyway.

He wasn't a particularly easy going parent.

Dean spied a desk towards one end, tucked away behind dusty shelving. Moving forward, he glanced curiously through some of the paperwork. John was notoriously secretive, many hunters were, underneath all the bluster and the bragging, but John was the worst by far. It wasn't unusual for Dean to have no idea what John was doing or hunting, at least, not since they had started hunting separately.

Surprisingly, the papers were a mix of professional and private, case notes, newspaper clippings, grade cards and immunizations records for the boys when they had been growing up.

Dean picked up first his, then Sam's, noting sadly that while Dean's had been filled out completely, at least the first four years worth, Sam's record contained more blank spots than entries.

John had never been too good at that kind of thing.

Dean spied a dusty trophy at the far end of the desk, and picked it up, heart sinking as he read the description. Sam had lamented the trophy's loss as a preteen. It was the one he'd been awarded after the one year he'd been able to complete an entire soccer season on one team.

The year he had spent several month's at Bobby's place, while Dean had been on lock down at Sonny's.

Dean swallowed hard as he set the trophy down, taking a step back without realizing it.

Suddenly, he felt himself flying to the left, a heavy weight behind him as he and his attacker crashed to the ground.

He reached for his knife instinctively as he struggled to flip around, but he assailant stilled his hand.

"Dean!"

Dean blinked, looking up in surprise. "Sam? What the hell are you doing here? You told me to stay away from you."

Sam pushed himself to his feet easily. "Saving your life." He replied curtly, gesturing to the wall behind where Dean had been standing only a few seconds before.

An arrow was lodged in the wood, at chest level, the shaft still quivering slightly. Following the arrow's most likely trajectory, Dean saw a crossbow lodged in the far corner, aimed for the desk.

"Fuck!" Dean cursed, angry at himself for needing saving yet again.

Sam knelt, looking along the floor. "Trip wire. Here. There was another by the door, but it must have already been triggered by the time you got here, or you'd most likely be full of rock salt by now."

"How do you figure? And that doesn't explain why you're here." Dean persisted.

"Blood. I can smell it. Human. And I'm here because Ava had a vision and called me. You and an arrow. Get the picture?"

Dean closed his eyes tiredly. "Yeah. Yeah, I get it. I owe you guys yet another one. Dad should have warned me."

"He's not really like that..." Sam murmured, looking with apparent disinterest at the paperwork Dean had been looking at only a moment ago.

He didn't even glance at the trophy, and Dean once again mourned the little boy who had begged to play soccer instead of learn bow hunting.

The irony.

"Dean, why are you here? Does John know?" Sam asked, looking over at Dean as he walked casually through the aisles of shelving.

Dean nodded. "He's the one who sent me. Someone busted in last night. Dad couldn't come..."

"Hmm." Sam replied noncommittally.

Sam knelt down again, near a small, dark stain on the ground. "Blood."

"Human?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "Yes. There's a shotgun aimed at the door. It didn't give you any problems, but someone wasn't so lucky. I take it this is Dad's long term storage?"

"What gave it away?" Dean asked sarcastically.

Sam shrugged. "I helped Bobby make some of these boxes." He gestured to the wooden chests lining the shelves.

"When?" Dean asked in surprise.

"A long time ago..." Sam said. "Any idea who it was, or what the wanted?"

"No." Dean said, coming to stand in front of one shelf, where a clean, rectangular outline could be seen on the shelf, devoid of the dust coating everything else. "But apparently, they found it."

"Well, that's...disquieting." Sam said, a thread of anger running through his voice.

"It's a problem that's what. These shelves aren't labeled. How the hell are we supposed to know what was here?"

"I'll look at the books over there. John might have kept an inventory." Sam said, moving over a few shelves.

"Okay, so, you saved me. Thanks and all. But really, Sam. Why are you still hanging around?" Dean asked suspiciously. Sam had been pretty adamant the other day that he wanted Dean to stay out of it, and yet here he was, literally walking back into Dean's life."

"Think about it Dean. You were attacked, John's gone in to hiding, now his storage unit's been breeched?" Sam replied, opening first one book then the other.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What, you think this is demon related? They wanted something in here, or wanted to draw Dad out."

Sam shrugged. "It doesn't seem very likely that this was unrelated to current events. My guess is, demons put humans up to it."

"Great..." Dean murmured, scanning the other boxes. "How do these things work? Bobby sends them to me, tells me what to do, but I've never made one."

Sam shrugged again. "Some are fairly generic. Blessed wood and protection symbols. Some are more complex." He turned from the shelves. "No inventory here. Do you see any books anywhere else?"

"No. What a damn nightmare. Even if I could get Dad on the phone, I can't even describe the box to him."

"I may know someone." Sam said slowly. "A woman who handles...acquisitions. If someone is buying or selling, she would know."

"Well, look at you. Making friends." Dean snarked. "Well, what's wonder woman's name?"

"Talbot. Bela Talbot.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Lily studied her brother in concern. Max was sitting in the corner booth of the diner, face buried in the paper, but Lily knew better.

Max was a red alert. Every sense, every instinct keyed up.

And for the first time in over two hundred years, he was refusing to let her in.

Literally.

As soon as they had achieved a motel room a decent distance from where Max had been held, they had gotten a room. Max had spent a long time in the shower, nearly an hour, but Lily had allowed him that. They all had a deep appreciation for things like hot water.

Towards the end of their stint in Hell, they had still been prisoners, but they had also become pets, of sorts. Azazel's favorite little toys. They had long ago convinced Azazel that they were his, loyal and unwavering.

They had become the trustee's of the prison, able to come and go somewhat freely through Azazel's own personal compound in Hell, but there had always been the worry, the off-chance that Azazel would return from his work on the surface and decide to take it out on the arch-demons.

They had lost Julia that way, the arch demon simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and even Sam hadn't gotten to her soon enough.

Lily's ability to kill had made her one of Azazel's favorite toys, but in exchange for the safety her skill afforded her, she was forced to use it at Azazel's beck and call.

That was when she had learned to run away, from her body, her mind, her memories. It was always easier when she was sleeping, but she could do it awake, like splitting her consciousness in two,as long as she was fairly near the other person.

Long after she had willingly given up the idea of contact with other people, unless she wanted them dead, she had managed to remember what it felt like, by riding along with one of her siblings.

Sam would allow it of course, having done it thousands of times in her childhood, but now that they were topside, it was no longer fitting, unless the situation made it necessary for some reason.

Andy and Anselm and Ava didn't mind either, but there minds were so busy it was exhausting, particularly her sister.

Jake's mind was safe, quiet, too, in it's own way, but stark. Black and white, focused only on forward motion.

Max's mind had been ideal, his sense of quiet sarcasm entertaining, but his mind calm enough that she didn't always feel like a leaf in a windstorm.

Additionally, the abuse Max had suffered at the hands of his human father and uncle long before the hell hounds had come for him, coupled with hell's hospitality, had left him abhorrent at the idea of physical touch either.

Both alone in there minds, they had naturally gravitated to each other, filling in the spaces left open and gaping in each others minds.

But now, there was a problem.

And it wasn't even Marcus. Marcus, surprisingly, had done very little to Max during his captivity. He had urged the humans under his control to have fun, though.

Somehow, the fact the humans were the ones who had once again harmed him, instead of demons, had broken something inside her brother.

And when she had tried to visit his mind, last night in the motel, she had found her entirely shut out. Even now, his mind was a locked vault to her, and he wasn't really the talk out loud kind of demon anyway.

Lily tried once again to push down her fear and anxiety and worry, but ever since she had discovered Max was gone, she had needed to talk to him, more than that, to feel him, in his mind, they way they had weathered so many other storms together.

But Max's mind had gone to darker places than he was willing to let her see.

"I'm going back to the motel." She said suddenly, standing up quickly. She felt like a rebuffed girlfriend, stereotypical and idiotic, and it pissed her off, because that wasn't what she was, wasn't what she and Max were to each other.

They were supposed to be each others safe harbors.

And a storm had just taken her's out of commission.

Max's eyes raised, locking onto hers. His lips compressed, thinning into linear shadows of themselves, but he remained silent.

She nearly flew out of the diner, purposefully turning in the opposite direction of the motel. She still felt like a leaf blowing wildly, out of control, and right now, she needed more open space than the motel afforded her.

The town was set on a series of hills, and she sought out high ground, feeling more like her dare devil sister than she did like herself.

On the far edge of town, one of the tallest hills had been butchered, sundered in half by a gravel quarry. It was obscene, in a way, one half of the hill still forested, trees swaying in the breeze, while the other side bled out pale gray stone, like exposed bone in a wound.

She quickly hiked up the forested side, taking comfort in the dark shadow's thrown over her by the trees. She could smell the pine, hear the leaves rustle, and she desperately sought calm, as she could feel power sparking from one finger to another, kindled by her anxiety.

She reached the hill's crest, and stood looking over the town.

The surface was the same as she remembered and yet very, very different. It had taken her a while to truly understand that she was the one different, was now seeing with different eyes.

The wind was stronger at the top, and she closed her eyes to let herself feel it.

She was a demon, a monster and most days she was fine with it. She had survived, after all.

But more than that, the thing that haunted her every waking moment, every second, was the fact that she wasn't just a monster.

She was an untouchable monster.

Hell had stripped away he ability to care about most things, and most times, her inhumanity lay along her mind like a soft, insulating blanket.

But seeing Max in that cage had ripped open a new wound, or perhaps a very old one, inside of her.

She hadn't even been able to help him dress his wounds. Her powers reacted to strong emotions (the only kind she really had left, after all.)

She hadn't been able to risk it.

As beautiful as the setting was, her emotional distress was causing her powers to react even more strongly, and she was glad she hadn't returned to the motel yet.

Sam they knew was immune to her particular gift. Others, though, hadn't been.

"Lily." The voice came from behind, and she turned in shock, both at Max's presence, and the sound of his seldom used voice.

It was rustier than usual, perhaps from the screams forced out of him while caged on the farm.

"I'll return later." She said as calmly as she could.

"Lily." Max repeated, almost chidingly, as he stepped closer.

She stepped back on instinct, he was too close for safety now, but she wasn't safe either.

She was too close to the damn edge.

Her eyes squeezed closed as she felt her center of gravity shift backwards, but immediately, she felt a strong pull forward.

She opened her eyes, expecting to see Max with his arms outstretched, having used his ability to pull her forward.

His hand was on her forearm.

"Don't!" She cried, trying to jerk away.

"You won't hurt me." He stated calmly.

"You don't know that." She insisted, still trying to tug out of his grip.

"Yes. I do." He replied.

"How?" She snapped, finally breaking loose.

"Because, Lily. Who do you think moves you from the car to the bed when your asleep, or riding someone to far away to do awake? Who do you think pulls up the blanket while you sleep?" Max snapped back.

She looked at him in horror. "You have powers, Max! You use your damn powers so I don't kill you like..."

"Like Julia?" He said, and she flinched.

"Yes."

"You were trying to help Julia. With what Azazel had down, she was going to die without help, and you were the only one there. He did it on purpose, just to watch you try. He frightened you, and your powers reacted." Max said sternly.

She shook her head. "Julia died because I touched her."

"Well, I won't. Either you won't hurt me, or I'm immune, like Sam." Max stated.

She shook her head mutely.

"Come on. It's cold." Max said, turning to walk back down the hill.

She lingered where she was for a moment, mind a crazy kaleidoscope as she tried to take in this new, frightening information.

Max turned back around, sighing. "I will put you over my shoulder."


End file.
